“You see, gentlemen?” Wyatt appealed.  “Mistah—­ah—­Tawmson, I offahed you twenty-five thousand on my own wesponsibility, as a—­ah—­business pwoposition.  My—­ah—­associawates in this undehtaking aw all fwiends, quite congenwial, y’ know, and I felt suah they would sanction that.  I do not cyah to go futheh lengths without—­ah—­a confewence with them, as I believe that pwice quite ahmple, y’ know.  But if I could awwange fo’ an option——­”

“You pay me twenty thousand, cash, in this room, at eight o’clock to-night, and I’ll give you an option for one week at forty thousand,” persisted the morose miner.  “After that, the price goes up.”

“Fifty pehcentum down on an option!  This is uttehly unpwecedented, y’ know.  I must wemonstwate, weally!”

“It’s all the option you’ll get from me, you jackanapes.”  He snapped contemptuous fingers under Wyatt’s nose.

Wyatt buttoned his coat with dignity.  “Weally, this pahsses all bounds!” he ejaculated.  “Gentlemen, I accept this—­ah—­puhson’s offeh.  I cannot enduah such an associwate.  You ah all witnesses.  May I ahsk you-ah names, and may I wequest youah pwesence to-night, both to ensuah the—­ar—­fulfillment of the vehbal contwact which you have heahd, and to pwevent the wepetition of this scandalous scene?” He opened the door.  “Aw wevoah, gentlemen!” By this time he was in the elevator.  From this coign of vantage he sent a Parthian shaft.

“Till eight o’clock, Mistah—­ah—­Tomkinson!”

The three held the raging Thompson with some mutual dishevelment.  They soothed him with flattery, stayed him with flagons, for he yearned for blood with a great yearning.

“Listen to your friends, boy,” urged Mitchell.  “Take his money, and don’t do anything you’ll be sorry for.  Make out your papers and pay no attention to what he says.  Come, brace up!  It’ll be time for dinner in a jiffy.  Promise us not to drink any more, and not to make any trouble, or we’ll ’phone him not to come.”

Steve allowed himself to be pacified at last, but he regarded his mitigators with a malignant eye.

“Here’s what I owe you on bridge, Mitchell—­twenty-three dollars,” he said sullenly.  “Archibald can settle with Loring. I don’t want no dinner—­I’m going to sleep.”

“Oh, come on now, that’s a good fellow,” purred Mitchell, picking up the two bills and the coins.  “Say, old man—­you haven’t turned counterfeiter, have you?” he said good-naturedly.  “This one’s N.G.”

Steve took it clumsily.  “It’s no such thing,” he blurted.  “Good as gold.  Take it or leave it.  I don’t care.”

“Oh, very well,” said Mitchell, humoring him.  Then he reflected.  The indications were that their projected coup might fail if Steve’s surly humor kept up.  Why not improve the shining hour?  The coin was obviously bad.

“I’ll take it before it gets you into trouble,” he insinuated.

Steve lurched to his feet, thrusting an undecorative face over the table.  “You think’ it’s bad?” he queried darkly.  “You think I’m a fool?” He flung a packet of bills on the table.  “Cover that, if you dare,” he said.  “There’s the money for the Post place—­ten thousand dollars.  It says that’s a good dollar.  Put up or shut up!”