"Look here, Courtney, is this a put-up job between you and Gamble?" demanded Washer.
"No," returned Courtney, with that rarely seen smile of his, "it's only the finish of that job you put up on me when you persuaded my friends to drop out of my hotel company."
Washer looked petulant. Johnny Gamble patted him on the shoulder.
"Cheer up," he said—"but hurry. If you don't hurry I'll sell you some stock in my Terminal Hotel Company."
"Give me some papers to sign," ordered Washer, producing his check-book.
Gresham met the colonel and Courtney on Broadway in full regalia just as they were turning in at the newest big cafe to dine that night.
"I'm sorry to tell you, Mr. Courtney, that my warning of this noon was not unfounded," he remarked. "Perhaps, however, you already know it."
"No, I don't," returned Courtney, eying the correctly dressed Gresham with some dissatisfaction. "I'm not even sure of what you mean."
"About a certain man with whom you are doing business."
"Oh—Gamble?"