"How?"
"Simply by giving the whole business away to Mr. Payson. He'll believe you when he won't me."
"Well, what is there in it?"
"You know what my word is worth. If you help me, and we succeed in getting Mr. Payson out of the net, I promise you a thousand dollars."
"H'm!" Masterson deliberated.
"Of course, they know I'll spoil their game if I can, so I take no chances in telling you. So it's up to you to decide whether you'll stand in with them, or with me. I can do it alone, in time, but if you help, so much the better. You stand to win, anyway. It isn't worth that much to work with them, as things are, and you know it."
"I don't know about that," said Masterson craftily, watching his man; "a thousand ain't much for giving away pals."
"They're not your pals. They've tried to freeze you out—Fancy Gray has told me that from the inside. They're going to get rid of you in short order. Besides, you'll have the credit of rescuing a credulous old man from the clutches of swindlers."
"That's true," said the doctor. "They're a-bleeding him something awful. It had ought to be stopped, as you say. I don't believe in grafting. I'm a straight practitioner, and if any of my patients want fake work they can go somewheres else."
"Well, what d'you say, then?"