"Tell Johnny to bring his Baltimore straw hat."
While Polly was trying to get his number, Johnny Gamble sat face to face with his old partner.
"You have your nerve to come to me," he said, as the eyebrowless young man sat himself comfortably in Johnny's favorite leather arm-chair.
"There's nobody else to go to," explained Collaton, with an attempt at jauntiness. "I'm dead broke, and if I don't have two thousand dollars to-morrow I'll quite likely be pinched."
"I'm jealous," stated Johnny. "I had intended to do it myself."
"I've been expecting you to," acknowledged Collaton. "That's one of the reasons I came to you."
"I admire you," observed Johnny dryly. "You bled me for two years, and yet you have the ingrowing gall to come and tell me you're broke."
"Well, it's the truth," defended Collaton. "Look here, Johnny; I've heard that you made a lot of money in the last few weeks, but you haven't had any more attachments against you, have you?"
"You bet I haven't," returned Johnny savagely. "I've been waiting for just one more attempt, and then I intended—"
"I know," interrupted Collaton. "You intended to beat Gresham and Jacobs and me to a pulp; and then have us pinched for disorderly conduct, and try to dig up the evidence at the trial."