Part 12 (2/2)

”What will you take for that list, or a copy of it?” went on Mr.

Wallingford.

Mr. Turner, Mr. Squinch and Mr. Fester looked at one another in turn.

In the mind of each gentleman there instantly sprang a conjecture, not as to the actual value of that list, but as to how much money young Wallingford had at his command. Both Mr. Fester and Mr. Turner sealing their mouths tightly, Mr. Fester straightly and Mr. Turner pursily, looked to Mr. Squinch for an adequate reply, knowing quite well that their former partner would do nothing ill-considered.

”M-m-m-m-m-m-m-m,” nasally hesitated Mr. Squinch after long cogitation; ”this list, Mr. Wallingford, is very valuable indeed, and I am quite sure that none of us here would think of setting a price on it until we had called into consultation our other former directors, Mr. Grout and Mr. Christmas.”

”Let me know as soon as you can, gentlemen,” said Mr. Wallingford. ”I would like a price by to-morrow afternoon at two o'clock, at least.”

Another long pause.

”I think,” stated Mr. Squinch, as deliberately and as carefully as if he were announcing a supreme court decision--”I think that we may promise an answer by to-morrow.”

They were all silent, very silent, as Mr. Wallingford walked out, but the moment they heard his own door close behind him conjecture began.

”I wonder how much money he's got,” speculated fish-white Doc Turner, rubbing his claw-like hands softly together.

”He's stopping at the Telford Hotel and occupies two of the best rooms in the house,” said blocky Mr. Fester, he of the bone-hard countenance and the straight gash where his lips ought to be.

”He handed me a hundred-dollar bill to take the change out of for the first month's rent in advance,” supplemented Doc Turner, who was manager of the Turner block.

”He wears very large diamonds, I notice,” observed Squinch. ”I imagine, gentlemen, that he might be willing to pay quite two thousand dollars.”

”He's young,” a.s.sented Mr. Turner, warming his hands over the thought.

”And reckless,” added Mr. Fester, with a wooden appreciation that was his nearest approach to a smile.

Their estimate of the youth and recklessness of the lamb-like Mr.

Wallingford was such that they mutually paused to muse upon it, though not at all unpleasantly.

”Suppose that we say twenty-five hundred,” resumed Mr. Squinch. ”That will give each of the five of us five hundred dollars apiece. At that rate I'd venture to speak for both Grout and Christmas.”

”We three have a majority vote,” suggested Doc Turner. ”However, it's easy enough to see them.”

”Need we do so?” inquired Mr. Squinch, in slow thought. ”We might--”

and then he paused, struck by a sudden idea, and added hastily: ”Oh, of course, we'll have to give them a voice in the matter. I'll see them to-night.”

”All right,” a.s.sented Doc Turner, rising with alacrity and looking at his watch. ”By the way, I have to see a man. I pretty near overlooked it.”

”That reminds me,” said Mr. Fester, heaving himself up ponderously and putting on the hat which should have been square, ”I have to foreclose a mortgage this afternoon.”

Mr. Squinch also rose. It had occurred to all three of them simultaneously to go privately to the two remaining members and buy out their interest in the list for the least possible money.

J. Rufus found the full board in session, however, when he walked into Mr. Squinch's office on the following afternoon. Mr. Grout was a loose-skinned man of endless down-drooping lines, the corners of his eyelids running down past his cheek-bones, the corners of his nose running down past his mouth, the corners of his mouth running down past his chin. Mr. Christmas had over-long, rusty-gray hair, bulbous red ears, and an appalling outburst of scarlet veins netted upon his copper-red countenance. Notwithstanding their vast physical differences, however, Wallingford reflected that he had never seen five men who, after all, looked more alike. And why not, since they were all of one mind?

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