“Who are they?” If Mr. Merriwether was to pay a million he might as well see the label.
“Cynthia, Agnes, and Isabel, daughters respectively of Gordon Hammersly, William Murray, and Vanderpoel Woodford. Any objections?”
“No; but you can't—”
“Yes, I can. Also, Louise Emlen, daughter of Marbury Emlen, the lawyer—”
“He's a crook!” interrupted Mr. Merriwether.
“He doubtless interfered with one of your deals; I see you respect him. He's a crank, but she is a brick. And a Miss Lythgoe, daughter of Professor Lythgoe, of Columbia, the most beautiful girl in New York. Ramona Ogden; her father is Dr. Ogden, the lung specialist; her mother was a Jewess. The remaining two are of humble birth. But all of them are healthy and beautiful, plenty of honesty, brains, and, above all, imagination. Any one of them will not only make Tom happy, but will make him a worthy successor of a great man. And such grandchildren as they will give you! I envy you!” The man spoke with such fervent sincerity that E. H. Merriwether merely said:
“It is a risky business, even though the chances appear to be—”
“That's why we ask one million dollars—because we have eliminated the risk. Very cheap. Are you ready?”
“Yes,” said Mr. Merriwether, grimly.
“Then, will you kindly—”