Wallingford's half-closed eyes followed him across the room with a gleam in which there boded no good for Mr. Maylie. Turning, however, Maylie found his host laughing heartily.
"I seldom pick up the hot end of it," asserted Wallingford. "How about the bank?"
"They're offering suit right now, and the Pneumatic will not pay the note. The company hasn't the money, and the tightening up of the local financial situation that has come about in the past month will make it almost impossible to realize on such trifling securities as the members have. Moreover, if they had money they're scared stiff, and not one of them would put up a dollar, except Klug, perhaps. They'll let the company go to a forced sale. I guess that's what you wanted, isn't it?"
"I'm not going to say about that," replied Wallingford. "The less we talk, even with the doors locked, the better."
"That's so," agreed Maylie; "only there's one point of it we must talk about. How did you come out in the East?"
"I have just told you not to try to know too much."
"I don't want to know too much. I only want to know where I come in."
"Your experience with me ought to tell you that you will have no occasion to quarrel with your fee."
"I thought so," retorted Maylie, leaning forward with a laugh that was more like a sneer; "but I want more than a fee, and I'm going to have more than a fee!"
For just one instant Wallingford almost lost his suavity, but whatever game he played he held all its tangled ends continuously in view.