"It was about Payson I wanted to see you," the Professor went on. "Seems to me you ain't standin' in like you agreed to. Gert claims you got cold feet on the proposition. I thought I'd drop in and chew it over."
Granthope did not answer, and the frown on his forehead persisted. Vixley took out a cigar and lighted it, threw his match on to the desk, looked about again, and grinned. "Then you have got cold feet, eh?" he remarked, crossing his legs.
Granthope looked the Professor squarely in the eye for a moment. Then he said deliberately: "Vixley, what will you take to leave town?"
Vixley showed his astonishment in the stare with which he replied. His lip drew away from his yellow fangs, and a keen light came into his black eyes. "Oho! That's the game, is it? Somethin' doin', after all, eh? Well, well!" He mouthed his cigar meditatively and twirled his thumbs in his lap.
"Come, name your price," said Granthope sharply.
"I'd like a few details first."
"What's the figure?"
Vixley was in no hurry, and enjoyed his advantage. "I thought you was up to something, Frank. Gert's pretty sharp, but Lord, she's only a woman. You fooled her a bunch. She really thought you'd got a change of heart. So you want to cut up the money all by your lonely, eh? Well, now, what'll you give to have me pull out of it?"
"I'll give you five hundred dollars," said Granthope.
"Nothin' doin'," said Vixley decidedly. "Why, it's worth more than that to me just as it stands, and I ain't but just begun. If you can't do better than that, why, it's no use talkin'."