“‘Oh, if he’s good enough for your daughter,’ I said, ‘his word ought to be good enough for you.’
“‘That’s all right,’ says Sam, ‘but business is business. I want it down in black an’ white that the income from this money is to be paid to my daughter, and that neither o’ them shall make any further demand on me.’
“Well, I drew that fool contract, an’, after it was signed, Sam delivered ten one-thousand-dollar bills to the young man, who was to become his son-in-law the following month with the assistance of a caterer and a florist and a string-band, all from New Haven.
“Within half an hour Dan Pettigrew came roarin’ up in front o’ my office in the big red automobile of his father’s. In a minute he came in to see me. He out with his business soon as he lit in a chair.
“‘I’ve learned that this man Rolanoff is a scoundrel,’ says he.
“‘A scoundrel!’ says I.
“‘Of purest ray serene,’ says he.
“I put a few questions, but he’d nothing in the way o’ proof to offer—it was only the statement of a newspaper.
“‘Is that all you know against him?’ I asked.
“‘He won’t fight,’ says Dan. ‘I’ve tried him—begged him to fight.’