"I'm not a junkman. We're going to float the Conomo."
"Mayo, talk sense! That job can't be done!"
"So you've been telling every outfitter and banking-man in this city,
Fogg! But now you are talking to a man who knows better. And let me say
something else to you. I'll do no business with the kind of a man you
have shown yourself to be."
"Don't be a boy, Mayo. I'm here with full powers. We'll take that wreck
off your hands."
"Want to kill her as she stands, do you?"
"It's our business what we do with her after we pay our money," declared
Fogg, bridling.
"There's something more than business--business with you--in this
matter."
"Yes, I see there is! It's your childish revenge you're looking after.
I'll give you ten thousand dollars to divide among that bunch of
paupers. Send them along about their fishing, and be sensible."
"It's no use for us to talk, Fogg. I see that you don't understand me at
all. You ought to know better than to ask me to sell out myself and my
partners." He rose and started for the door.
"Partners--those paupers?"
"They have frozen and sweat, worked and starved, with me out on Razee
Reef, Fogg. They are partners."
"What's your lay? What are the writings?" insisted the promoter,
following Mayo.
"Not the scratch of a pen. Only man's decency and honor. You and your
boss haven't got money enough to buy--There isn't anything to sell!"
"But there are some things we can buy, if it has come to a matter of
blackmail," raged Fogg. "Are you cheap enough to trade on a foolish
girl's cursed butting into matters she didn't understand? You have been
pawing those papers over. You know what they mean!"
Mayo turned and looked at the excited man.
"They have nothing to do with you or your affairs, the most of those
papers," sputtered Fogg. "Mayo, be reasonable. We can't afford to have
our holding companies shown up. The syndicate can get by that infernal
Federal law if we work carefully."
"Otherwise Marston and you and a few others might go to Atlanta, eh?"
"It isn't too late to send you there."
"You are worrying about those papers, are you?"
"Of course I'm worrying about them! What do you suppose I'm down here
for?"
"You keep on worrying, Mr. Fogg! Come on into the little corner of hell
where I have been for the last few months; the fire is fine!"