Mr. Robinson colored angrily. He knew little of the man with whom he had come to deal, but had always relied upon his urbanity and Western heartiness to “make a hit.” He knew Mark Blake and, although he had heard, like others, of Gregory Compton’s record at the School of Mines, he had assumed that he was a mere student, and in other respects more or less the same sort of man as his chum. This man looked unlike any he had ever met. He concealed his chagrin, however, and resumed his seat.
“Really, Mr. Compton, you are somewhat abrupt——”
“Get down to business. What does Amalgamated want?”
Mr. Robinson wisely took the cue.
“To buy you out.”
“How much will they pay?”
“How much do you want?”
“What do they offer?”
“Well, between you and me. I fancy they might go as high as a hundred thousand.”
“Tell them to go to hell.”