"No, indeed!" cried Mary, "don't you let him fleece you! I've got something to say here, myself!"
"Well, say it to him, then," returned Rimrock, wearily, "I'm sick and disgusted with the whole business."
"Yes, naturally," observed Stoddard, reaching into his pocket and deliberately pulling out his checkbook. "Most people are, by the time I get through with them; and your case is no exception. You made the mistake of trying to oppose me."
"I made the mistake," returned Rimrock hoarsely, "of trusting a lot of crooks. But I never trusted you—don't you think it for a minute—you've got n. g. written all over you."
"Another remark like that," said Stoddard freezingly, "and I'll put my checkbook away."
"You do it," warned Rimrock without changing his position, "and I'll blow the top of your head off."
Stoddard looked at him keenly, then uncapped his pen and proceeded to fill out the stub. For a moment there was silence, broken by the soft scratching of the pen, and then Mary Fortune stood up.
"I know it is customary," she said in suppressed tones, "for men to settle everything themselves; but you, Mr. Stoddard, and you, Mr. Jones, are going to listen to me. I have put up long enough with your high-handed methods; but now, will you kindly look at that?"
She laid a paper on the table before Stoddard and stood back to watch the effect, but Rimrock only grunted contemptuously.
"Aw, fill out my check!" he said impatiently, but Stoddard was staring at the paper.