Five Thousand an Hour | Page 9

like to walk home."
"You won't have to walk this time," she reminded him.
"Not while I ride!" asserted Polly stoutly.
"I'm so glad you won, Johnny. I guess you'll stay in Baltimore now."
"And give this back? I'll get an injunction against myself first. Polly, I owe you twenty-five hundred dollars. Here's the money."
"This is so sudden," she coyly observed. "My memory's poor, though, Johnny."
"It's a promise I made myself: If I won this bet half of the winnings belonged to the babies' hotel."
"Wait, Johnny," objected Polly, pushing the money away from her. "I'd rather have you on the new subscription list, by and by, for the furnishing and remodeling fund."
"I'll go on both of them," he offered, putting the money in her lap. "You ought to know that I stick."
"Yes, you do," she sighed, and passed him the list, covertly pointing out Gresham's name as she did so and showing the amount opposite it to be one hundred dollars.
"Mr. Gamble wants to make sure that you'll get it," sneered Gresham, and laughed. He was anxious to belittle Gamble in the eyes of Constance.
"If Johnny Gamble puts his name down it's as good as paid!" flared Polly. "By the way, Mr. Gresham, I have that Corn Exchange check blank for you now."
She handed him the blank and her fountain-pen; and, with some slight reluctance, Mr. Gresham paid his subscription.
"Thanks," said Polly briskly. "Johnny, did you say I should put you on the other list for the same amount?"
Constance leaned hastily forward, with the impulse to interfere against so foolhardy a thing, but caught herself; and, leaning back, she looked at Johnny Gamble in profile and smiled. There was something fascinating about the fellow's clear-eyed assurance as he cheerfully answered: "If you please, Polly."
"It will take you four hundred hours now to make your million," Gresham advised him, with scarcely concealed contempt.
"I'm no loafer," Gamble declared.
They all laughed at that.
"I beg your pardon," apologized Gresham. "Let's see. How long will it take you to make your million at the rate of five thousand an hour? How many hours a day?"
"About seven on regular days; three on Saturdays."
Both the girls were still laughing at the absurdity of it all.
"Counting off for Sundays, you should have your million in about forty days," persisted Gresham, figuring it with pencil and paper.
Johnny studied the problem carefully.
"All right; I'll do it," he announced, and looked at his watch.
"Bravo!" applauded Constance. "If you could succeed in that you would display a force which nothing could resist."
Gresham looked at her with a quick frown.
"And if he failed he would display a presumption which nothing could forgive," he paraphrased. "If it's not asking too much, Mr. Gamble, I'm curious to know how you propose to accumulate your million." And he smiled across at Miss Joy, who turned to Gamble, waiting interestedly for his reply.
"Work a lot of neglected stunts. I never wanted to make a million till now. I know how, though. I think I'll start with real estate." And he watched Gresham narrowly.
"That's a dismal enough opening," announced Gresham with a pained expression. "It is impossible to secure a decent price for property, especially when you want to sell it."
"If you want to get rid of some I'll buy it," offered Gamble promptly.
"I want cash." And again Gresham smiled over at Constance. The slight trace of a frown flitted across her brow. She had always thought of Gresham as a man of perfect breeding.
"Name the right figure. I'll make a deal with you on the spot."
"This is scarcely the place for business," Gresham reproved him.
"I beg pardon," Gamble quickly said, and looked at Constance, a trifle abashed.
"Please go ahead," that young lady urged. "This is more fun than the races."
"Thanks." He smiled gratefully, "Now, Gresham, let's get down to statistics. These are working hours. Here's twenty-five hundred."
"What for?" asked Gresham, looking at the money avariciously.
"To show confidence in the dealer. You have a vacant lot up-town. What's it worth?"
"Forty thousand dollars," recited Graham.
"If you want forty it's worth thirty," Gamble sagely concluded. "I'll split it with you. Give you thirty-five."
Gresham shook his head; but Gamble, watching him closely, saw that he was figuring.
"I can't let the property go for less than its value."
"I don't want you to. I offered you thirty-five."
"On what terms?" inquired Gresham cautiously.
"Thirty days cash. This twenty-five hundred is a first payment. I want a renewable option. If I don't cross over with the balance in thirty days, spend the money."
"What do you mean by a renewable option?" asked Gresham, hesitating.
"When this option runs out I get another at the same price--and twice more after that."
"Nonsense!" exclaimed Gresham, turning away. "Why, I'd be letting you tie up my property for four months."
"I'm offering you over eighty per cent, a year. You'd rather stay tied."
Gresham pondered that problem for