foolish, as the case may be; but he concluded that hereafter he would be
his own banker, or at least the custodian of his own money. This
accounted for the burglar-proof safe in the basement of the new cottage,
and where he could keep every valuable paper, securities, deeds,
mortgages, or money. This line of business was no secret in the
community. He was his own banker, and when he sold property or anything
else, the place of the money deposited was his own safe.

Much of Mr. McLain's spare time was spent at the Majestic, then the
largest hotel in the city, he being its owner. Ernest Case, the acting
landlord, took great pleasure in introducing him to customers, and
especially if they were prominent persons or had titles attached to
their names, who honored this hostelry with their presence.

One evening Mr. McLain sat in one of the cozy parlors enjoying a cigar
with Mayor Dalrymple, he, himself, being an alderman. They had much in
common to interest them, and were conversing interestedly, when Mr. Case,
accompanied by an imposing-looking stranger, approached and asked
permission to introduce Major Bancroft, of Quebec. The major took the
liberty of correcting a slight mistake.

"True, from Quebec last," he said, pleasantly, "but from Devonshire,
England, first. That is my home, and you know an Englishman
never denies his country. I am nephew to the Duke of Devon,
and"--hesitatingly--"possibly the next heir to the title. At present I am
a major in Her Majesty's Twenty-first Cavalry. I am just taking a run
through your grand country, while not much needed at home. Gentlemen, you
certainly have the making of a great city here in Montreal."

"We think so," said the mayor.