"Decidedly. I am 24 years old, athletic, and of an earnest and determined nature. Moreover, I have no family ties, and I'm willing to run any reasonable risk in order to improve the condition of my fellow men."
Clason smiled his approval.
"You say you need money. How much immediately?"
Quest was unprepared for the question.
"A thousand dollars," he ventured.
Without hesitation Clason counted out ten one-hundred-dollar notes from his wallet and laid them on the table.
"There's your advance fee. You're ready to go to work immediately, I hope?"
"Certainly," stammered Quest.
Stunned by the swiftness of the transaction, he sat staring at the money that lay untouched before him.
To accept it would be like signing an unread contract. But he had asked for it; to refuse it was impossible. Even to delay about picking it up might arouse Clason's suspicion. Already the latter had turned away and was opening the door of a steel cabinet. Quest had one second in which to reach a decision.... He crammed the currency into his pocket.