From a drawer of his desk Gabriel brought out a bundle of prospectuses
and laid them before Uncle Sylvester.

A languid smile of recognition lit up the latter's face. "Ah! yes," he
said, glancing at them. "The old lot: 'Carmelita,' 'Santa Maria,' and
'Preciosa!' Just as I imagined--and yet who'd have thought of seeing
them HERE! A good deal rouged and powdered, Miss Carmelita, since I
first knew you! Considerably bolstered up by miraculous testimony to
your powers, my dear Santa Maria, since the day I found you out, to my
cost! And you too, Preciosa!--a precious lot of money I dropped on you
in the old days!"

"You are joking," said Gabriel, with an uneasy smile. "You don't mean to
imply that this stock is old and worthless?"

"There isn't a capital in America or Europe where for the last five
years it hasn't been floated with a new character each time. My dear
Gabriel, that stock isn't worth the paper it is printed on."

"But it is impossible that an experienced financier like Gunn could be
deceived!"

"I'm sorry to hear THAT."

"Come, Sylvester! confess you've taken a prejudice against Gunn from
your sudden dislike of his son! And what have you against him?"

"I couldn't say exactly," said Uncle Sylvester reflectively. "It may be
his eyes, or only his cravat! But," rising cheerfully and placing his