“But you prefer not to go to the judge to ask his approval of this particular deed. All right. The abstract needn’t show these requirements,—our attorney will not be particular. I’ll fix that for you.”
“Yes, you can arrange that, I suppose,” said the old man, weakly. He was trembling now, visibly, and his voice shook.
“That will be worth five hundred more,—as special commission and guaranty that you won’t forget the court’s approval,” said Balcomb, coolly.
“No, oh, no!” wailed the old man. “I’m giving it away. You are taking unfair advantage. I am not well—I am not quite myself to-day.”
He sank into his chair, breathing hard; but he recovered instantly and smiled at Balcomb with an effort.
“I’m not a man to back out when I have pledged my word,” he said grandly. “A trade’s a trade.” And Balcomb grinned.
“Now, one other thing, Mr. Dameron. I’ll be square with you and tell the truth. I’ve got to have the option on the creek strip. My people are not a bit crazy to buy lots like these, but our apartment scheme is a big thing, and to get your strip of ground out there on the creek bank we’re willing to buy these lots of yours,—just, as the fellow said, to show there’s no hard feeling.”
“At seventy-five thousand for the creek strip. Not a cent less. It’s a part of the trust. It’s my daughter’s. I shall not give it away. There are only a few weeks more in which I shall have any right to sell,—and—and I have had another offer,” he ended weakly.
“Quite likely; but it isn’t so easy to get so much cash on short notice. And there’s the difficulty of finding other real estate to reinvest the money in, and the order of court and all that.”
Balcomb stroked his beard and eyed his prey. He dropped the suggestion about the reinvestment of the proceeds in real estate merely to show his acquaintance with the terms of the trust. It amused him to remember Ezra Dameron’s old reputation as a hard customer. He was proving, in Balcomb’s own phrase, almost too easy.