James Greenfield chewed his cigar in savage silence. Clearly it was time that he visited his town.
"Do you know where Mr. Worth is this evening??' he asked as mildly as he could speak.
"In his office, I think."
"Would you be good enough to send him a message that I would like to see him on a matter of importance? I will wait in my room."
"Certainly, sir."
When the landlord was gone the president of The King's Basin Land and Irrigation Company walked the floor, carefully reviewing his dealings with Jefferson Worth from the beginning. So this was what the banker had "up his sleeve" when he declined to join the Company!
He was interrupted by the boy with Mr. Worth's answer. Mr. Worth would be in his office at the store until ten o'clock.
The eastern capitalist made his way to the little room in the store where Jefferson Worth sat at his battered old desk. "How do you do?"
"Sit down," came the colorless greeting as the western man with one hand closed the door and with the other motioned toward the chair at the end of the desk. Then seating himself again in his own chair he waited behind his mask.
"Well, Mr. Worth, I see you decided to come into the Basin after all."