“I’ll agree to almost anything if you’ll do what I want done,” he said.
“I’ll do what needs to be done,” was the evasive answer. “You asked my terms, though, and I must warn you that they’re high. Some of the richest men in the world come to me, and I have no time to waste with those who cannot afford to pay my price. You can, if you’re willing to do so.”
“How much?” Stone asked, in a more subdued tone.
Follansbee’s preamble sounded formidable.
“I don’t expect to get you for nothing,” the miner went on. “You must know of a thousand ways of—of getting rid of people—ways by which no one would be any the wiser. I’m willing to pay for that knowledge, but I’m not a millionaire, you know.”
“I’m aware of that,” piped Follansbee, “and shall take the fact into account. That being so, my fee will be only forty-five thousand dollars!”
James Stone started at the mention of this enormous sum.
“That is the best I can do,” Doctor Follansbee went on, in his cold tones. “Remember that if I assist you to get rid of your partner, I also assist you to add his share of the proceeds from the sale of the Condor to your own.” The hawklike face was very hard now, and the beady eyes glowed sternly. “You will receive at least four hundred and fifty thousand dollars after the death of Winthrop Crawford,” he continued. “I’m only asking ten per cent of that amount.”
His tone was calm and calculating. Stone saw the point which Follansbee had made, but he could not penetrate the latter’s armor.
Follansbee had not said in so many words that he would help him to get rid of his partner. He had promised to help “in his own way.” To be sure, this calculation, based on Crawford’s death, seemed to commit him, but Stone found himself wondering if he were only being played with. Had the doctor merely mentioned that in order to draw him on and get his own price? Of what was the promise of help to consist? He voiced his doubts, but his words were met in the same sphinxlike way.