"You did give me the money," Drummond insisted. "Are you trying to go back on your promise?"
"Oh, well," said Stormont with an indulgent smile, "in order to satisfy you, we'll ask Watson." He knocked on the partition and turned to the clerk as the latter came in. "Mr. Drummond states that I gave him fifty dollars on the evening you brought him to the Dufferin House. Do you remember anything about it?"
"Certainly not," said Watson. "You gave him a cigar and some liquor, though I thought he'd had enough. He fell down the stairs afterwards and made trouble for me when I saw him home." Watson paused and resumed with a meaning smile: "It's pretty hard to remember what happens when you've got on a big jag!"
Drummond colored angrily, but pulled himself together. "I remember I got the money and told Mr. Stormont about the ore."
"Now I come to think of it, you did tell me a curious story about a mysterious silver lode," Stormont agreed. "Somewhere in the North, wasn't it? Anyhow, I didn't give the thing much attention. You can hear tales of that kind in any miners' saloon."
"That's so," Watson supported him. "Sometimes we hear them in this office when a crank prospector comes along. All the same, they're not business propositions."
"You promised me a share in the mine," Drummond declared, and added with dark suspicion: "I guess you found the ore."
Stormont laughed ironically. "Cut it out, Mr. Drummond! It's a sure thing I haven't found a silver lode."
"If you're going to turn me down, I'll try somebody else."
"I can't object. In fact, I dare say Watson will give you the addresses of some people who speculate on mining claims. But you mustn't be disappointed if they fire you out."