“That only shows what a mean cuss Cullen is. He ought to give you ten thousand, if he gives you a cent.”
“Yes,” cried Camp, “those letters are worth money, whether he’s offered it or not.”
“Mr. Cullen never so much as hinted paying me,” said I.
“Well, Mr. Gordon,” said Baldwin, suavely, “we’ll show you that we can be more liberal. Though the letters rightfully belong to Mr. Camp, if you’ll deliver them to us we’ll see that you don’t lose your place, and we’ll give you five thousand dollars.”
I glanced at Fred, whom I found looking at me anxiously, and asked him,—
“Can’t you do better than that?”
“We could with any one but you,” said Fred.
I should have liked to shake hands over this compliment, but I only nodded, and turning to Mr. Camp, said,—
“You see how mean they are.”
“You’ll find we are not built that way,” said Baldwin. “Five thousand isn’t a bad day’s work, eh?”