“What’s the idea of using this fool kid Foote?” asked Marsten, who hadn’t agreed yet to do what Barrows wanted. The idea of some easy money, no matter how it was obtained, appealed to Marsten, but he wanted all the details.
“I heard you talkin’ to him about a row he had with this Merriwell,” said Barrows. “Johnny, my reputation is at stake. I’ve not only got to get a bank roll—I’ve got to do Merriwell up, good and proper. I haven’t doped out the way to do it yet, but that will come later. And I figure this kid will fit into my plans pretty nicely. You can hold off on him till I get through using him, can’t you? I won’t need him very long, if I use him at all. Then you can do what you like with him, for all I care.”
“Anything to oblige a pal,” said the accommodating Mr. Marsten. “Finish up with him as soon as you can. I think I can bleed his dad for the notes I hold. That’s about three thousand, and it will come in handy. Looks like a long, hot summer, with darned few pickings.”
“You can spend it on a private yacht at the north pole if this game goes through,” boasted Barrows, “on your share of the winnings. The way I figure it, we’re due to cop off a couple of hundred thousand at least. And there won’t be a chance of a come-back, either—not for a long time. We can make a clean get-away.”
“Talk’s cheap,” said Marsten sententiously. “Come across with the goods. I don’t play with my eyes shut. I want to see the whole hand laid out. Then I’ll decide whether I want it or not.”
“All right,” said Barrows. “I don’t mind telling you—but remember, you’re going to forget it as soon as you’ve heard it, see?”
They talked in low tones for a few minutes after that. At first Marsten seemed to be incredulous. Then the doubt that showed in his face cleared away gradually, and he looked as if he were more ready to accept what Barrows was telling him at its full face value.
Finally he jumped up and held out his hand.
“Count me in,” he declared. “It’s the swellest little scheme I ever heard of. You sure struck a gold mine when you picked up this lad Bascom. I should think Harding would be green with jealousy when he hears about it.”
Barrows’ face darkened.