Carey climbed back into his chair. “If I accept your terms” he said huskily, “how am I to know that you will keep your word?”
“You will not know it. You'll just have to guess. When you do what I want you to do I will surrender to you the original document found in the canteen. Is that satisfactory?”
“I guess so. But I cannot give you a million dollars on five minutes' notice, McGraw.”
“It's quite a chunk of cash to have on hand, I'll admit. How much can you give me?”
“Five hundred thousand, and even then I'll have to overdraw my accounts with three banks.”
“I wish my credit was as good as yours, Carey. Your banks will stand for the overdraft, of course. You'll have to arrange it some other way if they will not.”
“I can't give you a cent over half a million to-day, no matter what you do” pleaded Carey piteously, and Bob realized that he was speaking the truth.
“Do not worry, Carey,” he replied, “we're going to do business without getting nasty with each other. I'll take your promissory note, at seven per cent, and you can secure me with a little mortgage on your Spring-street-business block. It's worth a million and a half. I am not so unreasonable as to imagine even a rich man like you can produce a million dollars cash on such notice, so during the past week I took the liberty of having the title searched and an instrument of first mortgage drawn up by myself. All we have to do is to insert the figures and then you can sign it. I understand you have a notary within hailing distance. Your own thoughtfulness in having this transfer of my water right ready for my signature suggested this course to me. It occurred to me that I could sell this mortgage to any Los Angeles bank.”
Carey covered his face with his hands and quivered.
“What bank do you anticipate selling it to?” he mumbled presently.