"Well, why don't you pick up some money and go in yourself? You will never be a man in the world as long as you stay in the background. Do you want to see me? Here I am, and all ready for business. Is there any money in this thing you have to propose?"
Claus, following Casper's lead, occupied an arm-chair in a remote corner of the room, away from everybody, and Casper sat down alongside of him. It was not any work for him to begin the conversation, for Claus "had given himself away" every time the subject of money was introduced.
"Were you in earnest the other day when you said that if you had a chance to steal a hundred thousand dollars you would try it on?" said Casper. "I want you to deal fairly with me now. I want to know just how you feel about it."
"My dear boy, I was never more in earnest in my life," said Claus emphatically. "Just give me a chance, and you will see whether or not I meant what I said."
"Well, I have got a chance for you to make something," said Casper.
"You have? Let her rip. I am all attention. But hold on a bit. Let us get a cigar. Have you any money?"
"I have ten cents."
"That is enough. Anything to keep our jaws puffing. I can listen a great deal better with a cigar than I can without it."
The two arose from their seats and made a trip to the bar. They lighted their cigars, and Casper paid ten cents for them. It made no difference to Claus that Casper had paid out some of his hard earnings and wondered where his next morning's breakfast was coming from. As long as he got the cigar, it mattered little to him whether Casper had any more money or not.
"Now I am all ready to listen," said Claus, seating himself in his arm-chair once more. "Be explicit; go into all the minutiæ, so that I may know what I have to do."