"No use," groaned Culver. And he told them the last part of his talk with Mrs. Dumont.
"She thought of that!" said Merriweather, and he looked the impartial admiration of the connoisseur of cleverness.
"But she'd never carry out her threat—never in the world!" persisted Larkin.
"If you had seen her when she said it, and if you'd known her as long as I have, you wouldn't say that," replied Culver. "We must try to get the money here, right away—at the banks."
"All shut," said Merriweather "I wonder how much cash there is at the Woolens and the Oil and Steel offices? We must get together as much as we can—quietly." And he rapidly outlined a program that put all three at work within fifteen minutes. They met again at seven. Culver had twenty-six hundred dollars, Larkin thirty-one hundred, Merriweather, who had kept for himself the most difficult task, had only twelve hundred.
"Sixty-nine hundred," said Merriweather, eying the heap, of paper in packages and silver in bags.
"Better than nothing," suggested Culver, with a pitiful attempt to be hopeful.
Merriweather shrugged his shoulders. "Let's get some supper," he said to Culver. Then to Larkin: "Well, Joe, you'll have to try promises. Will you keep this cash or shall I?"
"You might as well keep it," replied Larkin, with a string of oaths. "It'd be ruination to pay one without paying all. Perhaps you can use some of it between ballots to-morrow." Then, sharply to Culver: "You've telegraphed Mr. Dumont?"
"Of course," said Culver. "And it took some time as I had to put the whole story into cipher."