“Twenty-five thousand dollars? You don’t want much, do you? What do you want it for?”
To his own astonishment Paul found himself taking this rough, uncouth man into his confidence and telling him as much of his story as seemed necessary.
“Twenty-five thousand dollars, eh?” repeated Dan Tussock. “Well, men have made more than that in a few weeks in this country. How much have you got now?”
“On Saturday night,” replied Paul, with a humorous smile, “I had two hundred and fifty dollars or so, as I approached the city. Unfortunately I fell asleep on the train——” He paused.
“And now?”
Paul put his hand into his pocket and brought out some silver.
“That is all,” he said. “But my board is paid for a week. So you see I must have a job.”
“Jumpin’ Judas! You are a cool one!” said Tussock. “Well, we’ll see about that.” He made an attempt to rise but speedily collapsed, pale and panting for breath. “My God! What is the matter with me?”
“Black-jack, the cabman said,” replied Paul. “Lie still for a while. Tell me what you want and I shall get it for you.”
“Lie still! Say! What day is this?”