“To hell!” Axtell interrupted, bitterly. “May he burn forever!”
“Amen to that wish!” Croyden smiled. “Meanwhile, 149 can I do anything for you? You’re having a run of hard luck, aren’t you?”
For a moment, Axtell did not answer—he was gulping down his thoughts.
“I am,” he said. “I’ve just ten dollars to my name. I came here thinking the Congressmen, who made piles through our office, would get me something, but they gave me the marble stare. I was good enough to tip them off and do favors for them, but they’re not remembering me now. Do you know where I can get a job?”
“Yes—I’ll give you fifty dollars and board, if you will come with us for two weeks. Will you take it?”
“Will I take it?—Well, rather!”
“What you’re to do, with Mr. Macloud and myself, we will disclose later. If, then, you don’t care to aid us, we must ask you to keep silence about it.”
“I don’t want to know anything!” said Axtell. “I’ll do my part, and ask no questions—and thank you for trusting me. You’re the first man since our failure, who hasn’t hit me in the face—don’t you think I appreciate it?”
“Very good!” said Croyden. “Have you any other baggage?” nodding toward a small bag, which Axtell had in his hand.
“No.”