“A little short of ten thousand dollars,” he answered in a business-like tone of voice. “There's the figures,” and he handed the slip to Jack.
“When is this payment to be made?” continued Jack, glancing at the slip.
“Why, when the money is due, of course,” he cried in a louder key. “Here's the contract—see—read it; then you'll know.”
Jack ran his eye over the document until it fell on the payment clause. This he read twice, weighing each word.
“It says at the monthly meeting of the Board of Trustees, does it not?” he answered, smothering all trace of the relief the words brought him.
McGowan changed color. “Well, yes—but that ain't the way the payments has always been made,” he stammered out.
“And if I am right, the meeting takes place on Monday next?” continued Jack in a decided tone, not noticing the interruption.
“Yes, I suppose so.”
“Well, then, Monday night, Mr. McGowan, either Mr. Minott or I will be on hand. You must excuse me now. Mrs. Minott wants me, I think,” and he handed McGowan the contract and walked toward the door, where he stood listening. Something was happening upstairs.
McGowan and his friend looked at each other in silence. The commotion overhead only added to their discomfiture.