"It's pretty obvious," replied de Vinne, taking the expensive cigar which Bones had imported into the office for the purpose. "The position is a good one——"
"Half a mo'," said Bones. "Do you personally guarantee Mr. Sanders's salary for five years?"
The other laughed.
"Of course not. It is a company matter," he said, "and I should certainly not offer a personal guarantee for the payment of any salary."
"So that, if the company goes bust in six months' time, Mr. Sanders loses all the money he has invested and his salary?"
The other raised his shoulders again with a deprecating smile.
"He would, of course, have a claim against the company for his salary," he said.
"A fat lot of good that would be!" answered Bones.
"Now, look here, Mr. Tibbetts"—the other leaned confidentially forward, his unlighted cigar between his teeth—"there is no reason in the world why the Mazeppa Company shouldn't make a fortune for the right man. All it wants is new blood and capable direction. I confess," he admitted, "that I have not the time to give to the company, otherwise I'd guarantee a seven per cent. dividend on the share capital. Why, look at the price of them to-day——"
Bones stopped him.