“I suppose so.”
“Really, Gerald, this is an excellent joke. I don’t think he will make any further attempt to rob you. We can afford to laugh, but it might have been quite otherwise.”
Meanwhile Mr. Standish made his way slowly towards the Southern Hotel. He was plunged in deep thought. Should he give up the papers to Mr. Wentworth, or should he stand out for a larger sum? He had been promised two hundred dollars, but his principal had repeatedly offered a thousand dollars for them, and he persuaded himself that he ought to receive at least half this amount. He could not quite make up his mind what to do, and was still in a state of indecision when he reached the handsome hotel where Mr. Wentworth was a guest.
He entered the office, and did not have far to look, for Bradley Wentworth was standing at the news counter where he had just purchased a Chicago paper.
“Well?” he said eagerly when he saw Standish enter. “What news?”
“I’ve got the papers,” nodded Standish.
“You have? Give them to me.”
“Wait a minute, Mr. Wentworth. I want to see you alone.”
“Oh, very well! Come up-stairs.”
They boarded the elevator and stopped at the second landing, where Mr. Wentworth led the way to a front room, of which he unlocked the door and bade Standish enter.