“And, therefore, I now ask you to give me one million dollars.”
Mr. E. H. Merriwether never so much as batted an eyelid. He kept his eyes fixed on the stranger's eyes. He repeated, a trifle impatiently:
“And?”
“A certified check will do.”
“Come to the point. I am a busy man,” said Mr. Merriwether.
The man looked at the little financier admiringly. Then he said, “You mean you wish to know why you should give the million, or what you will get for it?”
“Either! Both!”
“You should give it because it is I who ask it. You will get for it what is very, very cheap at a million.”
“My dear sir, we'd do business quicker if you'd play show-down.”
Now that it was a matter of money, of paying, of trading, Tom's father felt a great sense of relief. Still, there was Tom's unhappiness to consider. Poor boy!