"Ah, yes, to be sure, of course. I was going to propose a—er—settlement."
"A what?" says Mr. O'Meagher sharply.
Mr. Wimples mops his brow. "The fact is," he says, "I don't happen to have so considerable a sum as $20,000 at the—er—moment, and I was thinking of suggesting that I just pay you, say, $10,000 down, and give you two—er—notes."
"'Twont do," says Mr. O'Meagher, shaking his head and fetching his pencil down upon the table with a smart tap, "'twont do at all."
"Eh? Indorsed, you know, by—"
"Mr. Wimples, that $20,000 in hard cash must be in my hands by six o'clock to-night, or your name goes off the ticket."
"O—er—Lud!" says Mr. Wimples, sadly.
"By six P. M."
"But, my dear Mr. O'Meagher—"
"Or your name goes off the ticket."