The Brand of Silence | Page 8

the financier. "I am glad that you came to
see me this morning. I was just about to have somebody look you up."
"Anything the matter?" Prale asked.
"Your funds were transferred to us by our Honduras correspondent,"
the financier said. "Since you were leaving Honduras almost
immediately, we decided to care for the funds until you arrived and we
could talk to you."

"I shall want some good investments, of course," Prale said. "I have
disposed of all my holdings in Honduras, and I don't want the money to
be idle."
"Idleness is as bad for dollars as for men," said the financier, clearing
his throat.
"Can you suggest some investments? I have engaged no broker as yet,
of course."
"I--er--I am afraid that we have nothing at the present moment," the
financier said.
"The market must be good," Prale observed. "I never knew a time when
investments were lacking."
"I would not offer you a poor one, and good ones are scarce with us at
present," said the banker. "Sorry that we cannot attend to the business
for you. Perhaps some other trust company----"
"Well, I can wait for something to turn up," Prale said. "There is no
hurry, of course. Probably you'll have something in a few weeks that
will take care of at least a part of the money."
The banker cleared his throat again, and looked a trifle embarrassed as
he spoke. "The fact of the matter is, Mr. Prale," he said, "that we do not
care for the account."
"I beg your pardon!" Prale exclaimed. "You mean you don't want me to
leave my money in your bank?"
"Just that, Mr. Prale."
"But in Heaven's name, why? I should think that any financial
institution would be glad to get a new account of that size."
"I--er--I cannot go into details, sir," the banker said. "But I must tell
you that we'd be glad if you'd make arrangements to move the deposit
to some other bank."

"I suppose you don't like to be bothered with small accounts," said
Prale, with the suspicion of a sneer in his voice. "Very well, sir! I'll see
that the deposit is transferred before night. Perhaps I can find banks that
will be glad to take the money and treat me with respect. And I shall
remember this, sir!"
"I--er--have no choice in the matter," the banker said.
"Can't you explain what it means?"
"I have nothing to say--nothing at all to say," stammered the financier.
"We took the money because of our Honduras correspondent, but we'll
appreciate it very much if you do business with some other institution."
"You can bet I'll do that little thing!" Prale exclaimed.
He left the office angrily and stalked from the building. Were the big
financiers of New York insane? A man with a million in cold cash has
the right to expect that he will be treated decently in a bank. Prale
walked down the street and grew angrier with every step he took.
Before going to Honduras he had worked for a firm of brokers. He
hurried toward their office now. He would send in his card to his old
employer, Griffin, he decided, and ask his advice about banking his
funds, and incidentally whether the financier he had just left was an
imbecile.
He found the Griffin concern in the same building, though the offices
were twice as large now, and there were evidences of prosperity on
every side.
"Got an appointment?" an office boy demanded.
"No, but I fancy that Mr. Griffin will see me," said Prale. "I used to
work for him years ago."
Then he sat down to wait. Griffin would be glad to see him, he thought.
Griffin was a man who always liked to see younger men get along. He

would want to know how Sidney Prale got his million. He would want
to take him to luncheon and exhibit him to his friends--tell how one of
his young men had forged ahead in the world.
The boy came back with his card. "Mr. Griffin can't see you," he
announced.
"Oh, he's busy, eh? Did he make an appointment?"
"No, he ain't busy," said the boy. "He's got his feet set up on the desk
and he's readin' about yesterday's ball game. He said to say that he
didn't have time to see you this mornin', and that he wouldn't ever have
time to see you."
"Don't be discourteous, you young imp!" Prale said, his face flushing.
"You're sure you handed Mr. Griffin my card?"
"Oh, I handed it to him--and don't you try to run any bluff on me!" the
boy answered. "From the way the boss acted, I guess you don't stand
very high with him!"
The boy went back to his chair, and Sidney Prale