The big man now confronted the young blood with decision.
“Mr. Lucian Morrow,” he said, “if you are finished with your fool talk, I will bid you good morning. I have decided not to sell the girl.”
The face of Morrow changed. His voice wheedled in an anxious note.
“Not sell her, Zindorf!” he echoed. “Why man, you have promised her to me all along. You always said I should have her in spite of your cursed partner Ordez. You said you'd get her some day and sell her to me. Now, curse it, Zindorf, I want her... I've got the money: ten thousand dollars. It's a big lot of money. But I've got it. I've got it in gold.”
He went on:
“Besides, Zindorf, you can have the money, it'll mean more to you. But it's the girl I want.”
He stood up and in his anxiety the effect of the liquor faded out.
“I've waited on your promise, Zindorf. You said that some day, when Ordez was hard-pressed he would sell her for money, even if she was his natural daughter. You were right; you knew Ordez. You have got an assignment of all the slaves in possession, in the partnership, and Ordez has cleared out of the country. I know what you paid for his half-interest in this business, it's set out in the assignment. It was three thousand dollars.
“Think of it, man, three thousand dollars to Ordez for a wholesale, omnibus assignment of everything. An elastic legal note of an assignment that you can stretch to include this girl along with the half-dozen other slaves that you have on hand here; and I offer you ten thousand dollars for the girl alone!”
One could see how the repetition of the sum in gold affected Zindorf.