“Can you sell me it?”
Burns chuckled.
“Why, I could, but——”
“Will you?”
McLagan was gazing squarely into the smiling round face before him. The banker’s shrewd mind was thinking quickly. He shook his head.
“No,” he said. “You can have that bottle, a present at my expense. I’m glad when a man like you gets interested in our stuff. Some day, maybe, you’ll quit oil for the other. But, say, won’t you tell me about it? You’ve got me guessing.”
“There just isn’t a thing to tell, Victor.”
“Sure?”
The banker’s eyes were looking squarely into the other’s.
“Not—now.”