"So do I," he exclaimed. "And if I remember rightly you stated on that occasion that cash was no consideration with you. Does that still hold good?"
It was the first good look Joe had had at the other's face. The change he found in it seemed to perplex him more than a little.
"I take it that it does." Garry did not wait for his reply. "And now—what do you say to that same full bottle against a—a ninety-nine year blanket restriction, with me at the wrong end of the odds?"
Joe slitted his eyes.
"When they tuck a ninety-nine year clause into a franchise they mean it's forever, don't they?" he wanted to know.
"Forever, to all intents and purposes!" said Garry.
Joe's chest sank and rose in a long, long breath.
"It's no word to trifle with," he cautioned at last. "If you lose it'll be a considerable drouth."
"Cut!" invited Garry, and they started to play.
That other night Garry's stack of chips had lasted far longer than they did on this second occasion. A half hour later, when he rose to go to bed, his ninety-nine year promise of abstinence was piled symmetrically before Fat Joe. But his good-night was gay. For a time after his departure Joe eyed Steve, sidewise.