“But this time I'm free from guile. I won't stab you, Cappy.”
“No use! The last boat just left, Augustus.”
{Illustration with caption: He always shouted when telephoning.}
Mr. Redell, however, was made of rather stern stuff. He was a young man who never took “No” for an answer. Persistence was his most striking characteristic.
“Now listen,” he implored. “Let the dead past bury itself. I give you my word of honor, Cappy, that this deal is on the level. Just let me put all my cards on the table while you take a look; then, if you don't want to come in, all I ask is your word of honor that you'll stay out while I round up a partner with red blood in his veins.”
Cappy pricked up his ears at that. He saw that Redell was serious; he knew that once the latter passed his word of honor he never broke it. Still, Cappy did not wish to appear precipitate in his surrender; so he said weakly:
“I am against speculation.”
“You mean you're against foolish speculation,” Redell corrected him. “I take it, however, that you have no objection to playing a sure thing.”
“Well,” Gappy admitted, “in that event I might be persuaded. Nevertheless, I'm afraid of you. There's a fly in the ointment, even if I cannot see it. You owe me a poke, and you'll never rest until you've squared the account between us.”
Mr. Redell held up his hands in abject distress.