the basement. Next, in front, was a beautiful office, finished in
hardwood, exquisitely polished, and furnished with most modern
furniture. In the rear of this office was a smaller room, the walls of
which were incased with steel plates, supposed to be both burglar-proof
and fire-proof. This room contained a safe having no opening except the
door into the office. It would never have been taken for anything but a
closet convenient to the main office; but the door was solid iron, the
lock of which none but the owner could manipulate. A reception or
smoking room, which Mr. McLain called his den, was on the other side of
the hallway--a cozy and yet elaborately furnished room, containing
tables, sofas, and easy chairs, where the owner could meet his friends
for business or pleasure.

Mr. McLain's father, a sturdy and sagacious Scotchman, had landed in
Canada when Abram was about ten years of age, and began in earnest to
win at least a living, if not a fortune, in this sparsely settled city,
which at that time was hardly worthy the name of a city, although its
thoroughgoing citizens had procured a city charter. Mr. McLain by
earnest long-sightedness and industry succeeded in becoming a well-to-do
citizen. Unfortunately, Mr. McLain invested most of his savings in a
large banking institution, located on McGill Street--The Montreal
National Bank--which a few months later was consumed in the
conflagration. This unfortunate event with subsequent obligations, left
him both poor and in debt, from which he never recovered, but in two
years died, leaving his wife dependent upon their only son. Some years
later, when Abram was accumulating money rapidly, he bought stock in gas
and water works, and in both instances they collapsed, and the
stockholders were left by a dishonest set of officers to meet delinquent
obligations. This experience of both father and son not only met with
indignant protestations, but drove Abram to a conclusion wise, or