“We have offered to sell.”
“For twenty-one thousand?”
“About that.” He was staring at her now. He stared harder when she said: “I am authorized to buy it at that price.”
For a moment he did not speak; just kept his keen grey eyes upon her.
“I am waiting,” he said at last in a droll drawl, “for the smile.”
“The—the smile?”
“Of course, you are joking.”
“I am not joking.” She was tempted to be angry now. “Here—here’s the proof. It’s the—Mr. Dobson called it the earnest money.” She dragged the five hundred dollars in bank notes from her blouse.
For ten seconds after that her heart fluttered wildly. What if this whole affair were a game played by these men at her expense? What if this man was not Caleb Powell at all? The thought of the consequences made her head whirl.
But no, the guard of a half hour before was staring, popeyed, at the sheaf of bills.