Masterson, surprised, turned away. "What did you get it for, anyway? I should think you'd got 'em again, by the way you talk."
"There's bad luck in it. I'm going to send it away. I'm afraid of it, somehow."
Masterson laughed, and resumed his seat, to discuss with the Professor the details of the plot. He did not seem much interested in the plans for the future, however, and seemed anxious to get away, yawning occasionally. He was now smug and confident, while Vixley seemed to have lost his nerve. The threatened newspaper revelations had cowed him. Madam Spoll was left out of the discussion; it was evident that her part of the affair was finished. Masterson left, promising his assistance if matters quieted down, and Payson could be brought under their influence again.
By dinner-time he had thought the matter over to his satisfaction, and he therefore enjoyed himself with beer and cheap vaudeville till half-past ten. Then he strolled down Geary Street and marched up to Granthope's office.
It had taken all Granthope's resolution to treat with Masterson, but it had seemed the only way, at present, to deal with the situation. Mr. Payson's part in the materializing séance had not yet transpired.
Masterson took a chair, crossed his legs and began:
"Well, Frank, I've been thinking over your proposition to-day, and I've decided that I've got to raise the ante."
"I thought that would be about your style," Granthope returned, "but I think I've offered you about all it's worth."
"Oh, it ain't only my help that's worth it, it's you that's worth it, so to speak. I'm getting on to your game, now, and I happen to know that you can afford to pay well; you see, I didn't happen to know so much about this Payson girl, as I do now. If you're tapping a millionaire's family, why, I want my share of it."
"I guess there's no use discussing the matter, then, if that's your theory. I can't possibly pay more than what I've offered."