“Jones—count.”
“When can I have the deeds?”
“Ten, to-morrow.”
“Receipt for two hundred and fifty pounds,” said Meadows, falling into the other's key.
“Jones, write receipt—two five naught.”
“Write me an agreement to sell,” proposed Meadows.
“No, you write it; I'll sign it. Jones, enter transaction in the books. Have you anything to do, young gentleman?” addressing Clinton.
“No, sir.”
“Then draw this pen through the two crosses on the map and margin. Good morning, gentlemen.”
And the money-making machine rose and dismissed them, as he had received them, with a short, sharp business conge'.