"Correct," says the lawyer. "One of our brightest young men. Entertaining talker too. And if I'm not mistaken, it was he who opened a good-natured discussion as to the limit of actual personal acquaintance which the average man has, ending by his betting fifty dollars—rather foolishly, I admit—that you could not remember the names and addresses of twenty persons whom you actually disliked. Well, you won. Here is the list you made out."
And the stunned way J. Bayard gawps at the piece of paper brings out a snicker from me. He flushes up at that and glares down at Judson.
"Tactics worthy of a Tombs lawyer!" says he. "I congratulate you on your high-class legal methods!"
"Oh, not at all," says Judson. "A suggestion of Mr. Gordon's. Another evidence of his insight into character, as well as his foresight into events. So, you see, Mr. Steele, if you decline to become the benefactor of Mr. Gordon's enemies, his money goes to yours!"
"The old fox!" snarls J. Bayard. "Why—I—let me see that list again."
It's no more'n gripped in his fingers than he steps back quick and begins tearin' it to bits. I'd jumped for him and had his wrists clinched when Judson waves me off.
"Only a copy," says he smilin'. "I have several more. Sit down, Mr. Steele, and let me give you another."
Kind of dazed and subdued, J. Bayard submits to bein' pushed into a chair. After a minute or so he fixes his glasses again, and begins starin' at the fresh list, mumblin' over some of the names to himself.
"To them! Three millions!" says he gaspy.
"Roughly estimated," says Judson, "that would be about one hundred and fifty thousand dollars apiece which you would, in effect, hand over."