“I don’t know that I would,” said Jimmy. “He doesn’t seem quite such a cut-throat as that. But it certainly looks—”
“Yes, I guess he fixed it up with Mr. Crocker. Well, if he did there isn’t anything I can do. There’s no use asking him not to sell.”
“Of course not. Now I’ve been mulling it over ever since I talked with Stimson. What you want to do is buy out Stick yourself.”
“Yes, but I can’t. I don’t dare take enough money out of the bank, Jimmy. It would leave me flat, and—”
“Wait a sec! What about Patterson? Will he give you until to-morrow noon, say?”
“Oh, yes, I think so. He said I could have until Wednesday to buy him out. To-morrow’s Wednesday, isn’t it?”
“Yes, if it doesn’t rain. Now listen. Here’s a proposition. I haven’t worked it out yet, but— Look, Rus! You see Patterson right away and make him agree not to sell until twelve to-morrow. By that time you’ll have the money.”
“I’ll have the money,” agreed Russell. “Of course. Some one’s going to die and leave it to me, I suppose.”
“Shut up! I’ll get it for you. Listen, idiot.” Jimmy dropped his voice another note, although the nearest person was a small boy half the length of the long room away. “I’ll jump the ten-twenty train to-night. That’ll get me to New York at twelve-forty. I’ll put up at a hotel and be downtown at nine in the morning. Dad always gets to his office at ten past. That’ll give me thirty-six minutes to see him and get the nine-forty-six back. That gets here at eleven-thirty-three. I’ll take a carriage—”
“Are you crazy?” interrupted Russell.