"Having a holiday," said Johnny soberly, and escaped.
He wanted work—the more of it the better. He spent the entire week in the most fatiguing toil he could find, and in that week had no word from Constance Joy except a very brief and coldly-formed note thanking him for his flowers.
On the following Saturday morning Gresham walked into the Bronx offices with a particularly smug satisfaction.
"I've come to close up the Wobbles transfer with you," he stated. "I am authorized formally to make over the property to you and to collect the two and a half million remaining to be paid."
"Barring the slight difference of a million dollars the amount is correct," replied Johnny dryly. "I have the million and a half balance ready, but I had expected Mr. Birchard to come in and finish the transaction."
"Birchard is not representing the Wobbleses," Gresham politely informed him. "I had a little talk with them on the Tuesday following the house-party at Courtney's, and they decided to have me look after the matter instead. By the way, I hunted for you everywhere on the day before the first payment was due, to tell you that the Wobbleses preferred to have the two and a half million paid all in one sum to-day; but since you were not in I didn't trouble to leave you a note. Very few men need to be told not to pay out money."
"Do you mean to tell me that Mr. Birchard never has represented the Wobbles family in this matter?" Johnny managed to ask.
"Certainly not," answered Gresham, widening his eyes.
"I have his signed authorization to act for them in the matter," declared Johnny, remembering that circumstance with happy relief.
"You have?" inquired Gresham with great apparent surprise. "Will you allow me to look at the paper?"