“‘That’s a very large sum of money,’ he says.
“I lolled over the table an’ smoked on him like a Dutch uncle.
“‘Big money!’ I gurgled it, like a man choking on a laugh. ‘Do you know how much Carrots has got hanging on it?’
“He didn’t answer that; I knew he wouldn’t.
“‘Where, precisely, do you expect to get this money?’ he says.
“I set up more calm like at that.
“‘Well,’ I says, ‘I thought maybe we could raise it together.’
“He wanted that fake fortune saved for him, so it would come along with the girl, but he wanted somebody else to carry the chance.
“I knew it, and I smoked on him. I hung over the table and puffed it in his face. He tried to duck out of it, and I followed him around. It done me good. I couldn’t spit on the little tightwad.
“‘Now, look here, Mr. Westridge,’ I says, ‘don’t you get a wrong notion in your head; I’m not a-goin’ to let you take any risk on this. I’m a-goin’ to take the risk; there ain’t none, in fact; the stuff’s got to bounce back. It’ll go to the sky when the steel bunch get all they can grab of it. But whatever risk there may be,’ I sputtered it out on him, ‘is mine. I’ll put up the backing an’ you get me the money by to-morrow at noon.’ I was nearly across the table, an’ I didn’t wait for him to cut in with a question. I took a big envelope out of my pocket and flashed the stuff on him. He came up with a chirp.