“Now, it’s up to you—my cards are on the table. Say no, and I’ll give you ten thousand for your stock. Say yes, and we’ll go into the game as fighting partners. Which is it?”
In his appeal was force and something better than force—earnestness.
Alice Ferguson recognized it. She worked for her living, and had learned to know something of what might lie beneath the words of a man. She saw that Bowen’s speech might be crude and a bit too frank; but she saw that he meant it. She read down to the good honest soul of the man from Tonopah, and found honesty there. She realized that he did indeed need her; that it would be a coward’s part to fail him. And he was a man to trust.
“Yes,” she said, her eyes grave.
Bowen relaxed suddenly, drew a long breath like a sigh. He had been tremendously keyed up to that moment.
“Then let’s go,” he said, rising. “Let’s go see Gus Saunders.”
VI—POTENTIAL MILLIONAIRES.
Once they were settled in a taxicab, Bowen produced the five thousand in notes, removed the rubber-bands from the package, and counted out twenty fifties.
“Here.” He handed the girl ten of the yellow-backs. “I need expense money and so do you. Five hundred apiece will do.”
“But—”