"Go back to that 'phone and tell the gentleman that it will take the biggest search-light in the amalgamated navies of the world to enable him to get even a bird's-eye view of me until I get good and ready," he said. "Er—tell him he can come to my office at ten-thirty to-morrow morning if he wants to, only he mustn't be late. Just impress that on his mind."
Mr. Dobbins choked and coughed apoplectically.
"Don't let us interfere with any of your engagements, Mr. Vanderpoel," he sputtered.
"That's all right, Mr. Dobbins," said Jack.
"I wish you'd invest seven or eight million for me," said Dobbins, with a sheepish glance at Jack. "I know it isn't much, but—"
"Risky business, speculating, Mr. Dobbins," said Jack, bravely, although the suggestion had nearly knocked him off his chair. "Better hang on to your pennies, now that you've got 'em."
"Oh, I've got eight or ten more where they came from," chuckled the old man.
"Then, sir," said Jack, as calmly as he knew how, "the best investment for you is in Miss Amanda Dobbins Preferred, a stock of priceless value."
"I don't think I quite understand," said the old man, scratching his head in perplexity.
"Settle five million on your daughter," explained Jack. "When you've got her fixed comfortably in life, go in and do as you please with the rest of your fortune. Play the game as hard as you like, and, win or lose, no harm can come to her—and if you lose, why, she'll be able to take care of you."