“What are your other assets?”
Francis shrugged his shoulders.
“That’s what they’re going to find out when they’re full up with my stuff.”
“It’s a bluff!” Regan admired explosively. “You’ve got the old man’s nerve, all right. But you’ve got to show me it isn’t bluff.”
Regan waited, and Francis was suddenly inspired.
“It is,” he muttered. “You’ve named it. I’m drowning over my back-teeth now, and they’re the highest out of the wash. But I won’t drown if you will help me. All you’ve got to do is to remember my father and put out your hand to save his son. If you’ll back me up, we’ll make them all sick....”
And right there the Wolf of Wall Street showed his teeth. He pointed to Richard Henry Morgan’s picture.
“Why do you think I kept that hanging on the wall all these years?” he demanded.
Francis nodded as if the one accepted explanation was their tried and ancient friendship.
“Guess again,” Regan sneered grimly.