“Every word of it!”
“Well,––since you have raised the white flag, here are my terms:––
“I don’t want a cent of your money. Sell out and turn every nickel you have over to somebody or some institution that needs it. Come with me before a magistrate and make an honest confession, and take your chance of a new start, like a man would do. I’ll shake hands then and call it quits, but not until.”
The Mayor glared at Phil as if he considered the latter had suddenly become bereft of his reason.
“Oh, pshaw!” he exclaimed in disgust, turning on his heel, “no use bargaining with a lunatic.”
“Wait a bit!” cried Phil. “If I accept all you offer, what do you want in return?”
“Nothing!––nothing but that little piece of paper I was fool enough to leave lying about a few years ago.”
“In other words,––your price is the proof of my innocence and your own guilt.”
“The question of innocence and guilt has been settled between you and me long ago. You paid the price;––why not take your share of the proceeds?”