“I promise,” said Dick. “There’s no sense in our quarreling. We don’t know each other. What I want to find out is what all this is about.”
Martin Mudd let go and leaned back against the rocks, indulging in a hearty laugh.
“Of course we don’t know each other—that’s got nothing to do with it,” he said. “Now, look here, young Darrell, suppose I could put you in the way of picking up a big fortune—say a million and over. What about that?”
“Honestly?” asked Dick.
“Yes, honestly. Oh, I’m not joking. I’m in dead earnest. How much will you give?”
“I’ll give you a hundred thousand dollars the day I come into the money,” replied Dick, but when he said it he had not the faintest notion that Martin Mudd’s singular words were anything more than a bluff.
“Humph! Well, that’s business, but perhaps you’ll make it more.”
“A hundred thousand dollars is a good lump of money,” said Dick. “You were going to explain about this. Do it, and——”
“Not now. You are the highest bidder by a lot. Will you sign a paper to that effect?”
“Certainly I will if you will let me read it before I sign.”