“And you will make a deposit now, to bind the bargain?”
“How much of a deposit?”
Gabe Flecker hesitated. In his mind he was wondering how much the old planter had with him.
“I was told to get a deposit of a thousand dollars if I could,” he said, slowly.
“I have only four hundred and fifty dollars with me, Mr. Wardell.”
“Then I’ll take that. Of course you’ll be prepared to pay the balance by a week from to-day?”
“Yes—as soon as I can get a clear deed. But I can’t let you have more than four hundred. I must keep some money for traveling expenses.”
“All right; I’ll take the four hundred dollars,” said Gabe Flecker, quickly. “I’ll write you out a receipt at once. I don’t generally do business when I am eating, but I’ll make an exception this time.”
The old planter brought forth a large wallet, and counted out four hundred dollars in twenty-dollar bills. In the meantime, Gabe Flecker began to write out a receipt, which he signed Thomas C. Wardell, Agent for the Paramore Estate.
“There’s the receipt,” said he, and passed it over. As he did so, Frank arose and confronted him.