"Well, then; what if I know who that boy was, and where he is now? How would that strike you?"
"Jimminy! Do you?" Vixley cried, now fairly aroused. "I don't deny that might make considerable difference."
"I should say it would! I should imagine yes! Why, you simply can't do nothing at all till you know who he is, and what he knows! And I got him! Yes, sir, I got him!"
"Who is he?" Vixley asked, with a fine assumption of innocence.
Masterson laughed aloud. "Don't you wish't you knew?" he taunted. "I'll let you know as soon as we come to an agreement. What d'you think about that partnership proposition now?"
"Good Lord, ain't I told you all along I was willin'? It was only Gertie prevented me takin' you in before! Sure! I'm for it. Gertie's in a bad way, and I doubt if she'll be able to do anything for a long time, even if she should recover. Meanwhile, of course, I got to live. It won't do to let Payson slip through our fingers. Let's shake on it, Doc; I'm with you. You help me out, and we'll share and share alike."
"Done!" said Masterson. "I kind of thought I could make you listen to reason. Now you can tell me just how the land lays with Payson."
"Wait a minute! You ain't told me who the kid is, yet."
Masterson hesitated a moment, unwilling to give up his secret till he had bound the bargain, but it was, of course, obviously necessary. He leaned toward his new partner and touched Vixley on the knee. "It's Frank Granthope!"
Vixley jumped to his feet and raised his two fists wildly above his head, then dropped them limply to his side. "Granthope!" he cried. "My God! Are you sure?"