“No, it is not necessary. I think I follow your line of reasoning.”
“I am not disappointed in my estimate of your common sense” Carey retorted, and favored his visitor with a cold, quizzical smile. “Here is the assignment of that water right to me. In return I will give you—let me see. I will give you just fifteen hundred dollars for that water right, McGraw, and I am surprised at myself for exhibiting such generosity. And inasmuch as you collected that sum in advance last autumn at Garlock, your signature to the assignment, before a notary who is waiting in the next room, is all that we require to terminate this interview.”
“But I told you I came here to compromise.”
“I understand fully. Those are my terms. Your water right on Cottonwood lake in return for your freedom. Stage-robbers cannot be choosers, Mr. McGraw. I recognized you that day at Garlock and I am prepared to so testify.”
The land-grabber rose from his swivel chair. His polished suave manner had disappeared now and his cold eyes flashed with anger and hatred.
“I haven't forgotten that day in the State Land Office, McGraw. A slight pressure on this button”—he placed his manicured finger on an ivory push button—“and two plain-clothes men in my outer office will attend to your case, McGraw.”
“So those are your final terms, Carey?”
“Absolutely.”
Bob crossed his right leg over his left knee, pulled out a five-cent cigar and thoughtfully bit off the end.
“Press the button, old man” he murmured presently. “Confound this cigar, I've busted the blamed wrapper. Got another cigar handy, Carey? Thanks. By George, that's a two-bitter, isn't it? Well, it's none too good for the last of the McGraw family. I'll be in the two-bit class; myself in half an hour. But proceed, Carey. Press the button and call in your plain-clothes men.”