He saw that there was something on and, like a rogue, believed, of course, that I was plotting further graft on these innocents. He played up to me with shrewd promptness.
“If I have done anything wrong I ask pardon,” he whined.
“These are particular friends of mine. Hand over their money at once!”
He turned his back on them while he pulled out the money and gave me a wink which indicated that he was on and approved whatever game I was playing. I kept my face straight and stern, for the boys were surveying me with adoration.
I handed them the money and went across to Mr. Dawlin’s booth, the hicks at my heels.
Mr. Dawlin was by nature more suspicious of his fellow-man than was Professor Jewelle, and he evidently resented the fact that I had not tipped him off in advance. He regarded me with much sullenness when I commanded him to return the money he had taken from the gentlemen. His sour unwillingness, mingled with his uncertainty, really helped my game along. It looked as if I had the power to force even such a balky mule as Dawlin seemed to be.
“I don’t know about this!” he growled.
“I can’t help that! You’ll have to take my word—till you can get something better,” I added, and I put a little significance into my last words.
And Mr. Dawlin, being a rascal who thought he could sniff a plant, decided to grab in on a partner’s game. “Why, sure, boss,” he cried, heartily, “if that’s the way you feel about it! Take any gents that’s friends of yours and all you have to do is speak the word!” He pulled out of his trousers pocket a big wad of crumpled bills. “Do you know how much they spent backing their opinion against mine?”
“It was twenty-two dollars—it was just twenty-two dollars,” piped one of the boys, and the other one helped out on the chorus.