"I'll give you a thousand dollars to let me alone."
"That'd be a thousand and fifty you had given me, wouldn't it?" returned Lindsay gayly.
Tears of vexation stood in Bromfield's eyes. "All right. Let me go.
I'll be fair to Whitford and arrange a deal with him."
"Get the stockholders who're with you on the 'phone and tell 'em to vote their stock as Whitford thinks best. Get Whitford and tell him the fight's off."
"If I do, will you let me go?"
"If you don't, we'll return to the previous question—the annual meeting of the Bromfield Punishment Company, Limited."
Bromfield got busy with the telephone.
When he had finished. Clay strolled over to a bookcase, cast his eyes over the shelves, and took out a book. It was "David Harum." He found an easy-chair, threw a leg over one arm, and presently began to chuckle.
"Are you going to keep me here all day?" asked his host sulkily.
"Only till about four o'clock. We're paired, you and me, so we'll both stay away from the election. Why don't you pick you a good book and enjoy yoreself? There's a lot of A 1 readin' in that case over there. It'll sure improve yore mind."