“What good will that do me?” he retorted. “It’s wasted.”
Deep silence followed. The stock-holders knew that a hundred thousand had actually been paid out for advertising which, of course, was now of no value whatever. Only Wallingford knew that, the contract not being completed, part of it could be rebated, though only a small part, but he was not saying anything. Temptation had caught up with Wallingford, had wrestled with him and overthrown him!
“Yes,” admitted young Paley with a long, long sigh, “all that advertising money is wasted.”
Young Corbin was figuring.
“Mr. Dorcas,” said he, “if you will increase your offer by two thousand dollars I am inclined to accept it and get out of this muddle once and for all.”
Mr. Dorcas himself figured very carefully.
“It is stretching a point with you,” said he, “but I’ll give it to you. Understand, though, that is the last cent.”
“I am not in favor of it,” declared Wallingford, thereby putting himself upon the proper side for future reference. “It leaves us with a net cash loss of one hundred and eight thousand dollars. I’m in favor of rigging up some other patent medicine and going right ahead with the business. A slight assessment on our stock, or an agreement to purchase pro rata, among ourselves, a small amount of the treasury stock in order to raise about twenty-five thousand dollars more, will put us in shape to go ahead.”
If he intended to encourage them he had gone the wrong way about it. They recoiled as one man from that thought. Young Corbin jumped to his feet.