“If the firm has hard luck—” said Heinzman.
“Exactly,” finished Newmark.
“Vy you come to me?” demanded Heinzman at length.
“Well, I'm offering you a chance to get even with Orde. I don't imagine you love him?”
“Vat's de matter mit my gettin' efen with you, too?” cried Heinzman. “Ain't you beat me out at Lansing?”
Newmark smiled coldly under his clipped moustache.
“I'm offering you the chance of making anywhere from thirty to fifty thousand dollars.”
“Perhaps. And suppose this liddle scheme don't work out?”
“And,” pursued Newmark calmly, “I'll carry you over in your present obligations.” He suddenly hit the arm of his chair with his clenched fist. “Heinzman, if you don't make those July payments, what's to become of you? Where's your timber and your mills and your new house—and that pretty daughter of yours?”
Heinzman winced visibly.