“Yes,” said Smith, hesitatingly. “That all sounds right enough. But”—with an inspiration—“why don't he go to one of these big-bug boomsters he knows—that he got letters of introduction to—and get him to fix him up?”
“Oh, Lord!” exclaimed Steelman, hopelessly. “Listen to him! Can't you see that they're the last men he wants to let into his game? Why, he wants to use THEM! They're the mugs as far as he is concerned!”
“Oh—I see!” said Smith, after hesitating, and rather slowly—as if he hadn't quite finished seeing yet.
Steelman glanced furtively at the fern-screen, and nudged Smith again.
“He said if he had three hundred, he'd double it by Saturday?”
“That's what he said,” replied Steelman, seeming by his tone to be losing interest in the conversation.
“And... well, if he had a hundred he could double that, I suppose.”
“Yes. What are you driving at now?”
“If he had twenty——”
“Oh, God! I'm sick of you, Smith. What the——!”