To be truthful, Captain Warren, we're not sure as
to the amount of your brother's tangible assets. Graves made a hurried
examination of the stocks, bonds, and memoranda, and estimated the
total, that's all."
"I see. Well, heave ahead."
The lawyer went on. The dead broker's office had been on Broad Street.
A small office, with but two clerks. One of the clerks was retained,
and the office, having been leased for a year by its former tenant,
was still open pending the settlement of the estate. A. Rodgers Warren
personally was a man who looked older than he really was, a good liver,
and popular among his companions.
"What sort of fellers were his companions?" asked Captain Elisha.
"You mean his friends in society, or his companions down town in Wall
Street?"
"The Wall Street ones. I guess I can find out something about the
society ones. Anyhow, I can try. These Wall Streeters that 'Bije chummed
with--a quiet lot, was they?"
Sylvester hesitated. "Why--why--not particularly so," he admitted.
"Nothing crooked about them, of course. You see, a stock-broker's life
is a nerve-racking, rather exciting one, and--"
"And 'Bije and his chums were excited, too, hey? All right, you needn't
go any further. He was a good husband while his wife lived, wa'n't he?"
"Yes.
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