"Double—treble—if I have to!" retorted Wacker. "Only I want you to wait until I can get the cash. I have only sixteen dollars with me—I can get a hundred and sixty in two minutes, I—"
"Terms strictly cash," said Bart simply. "Going, going, at twenty dollars—"
"Hold on! Don't you dare!" raved Wacker, swinging his arms about like a windmill. "I demand that this sale be suspended until I can get further funds."
"Twenty dollars—gone!" sung out Bart in the same business tone, "and sold to—cash."
With a sigh of relief and weakness Baker swayed sideways to a bench, first extending to Darry Haven with a shaking hand a little roll of bills.
"Charge me with the balance," said Bart quickly to his assistant, in a low tone.
"You've no right!" raved Lem Wacker loudly, shaking his fist at Bart, and in a passion of uncontrollable rage. "You'll suffer for this! I protest against this sale—I demand that you do not deliver that package, you young snob! you—"
Lem Wacker was getting abusive. He pranced about like a mad bull.
A heavy hand dropped suddenly on his collar, McCarthy, the watchman, gave him a shove towards the door.
"No talk of that kind allowed here," he remarked grimly. "Get out, or I'll fire you out!"