“Well, now, it isn’t like that at all, Mr. Wade,” answered Geary, making awkward gestures with both his hands.  “It isn’t what we ought to get out of him.  Could any sum of money, could millions compensate you for Miss Ida’s death?  I guess not.  It’s what we can get.  If this thing comes into court we won’t get but five thousand out of him; I’ll tell you that right now.  He could raise that by a mortgage, easy; but if we compromise we can squeeze him for eight thousand.  You see, the fact that we can act directly with him instead of through counsel makes it easier for us.  Of course, as I tell you, it isn’t just the legal thing to do, but I’m willing to do it for you because I think you’ve been wronged and outraged.”

Wade struck his hand to his head.  “I tell you, he’s brought dishonour upon my gray hairs,” he exclaimed.

“Exactly, of course, I understand how you feel,” replied Geary, “but now about this eight thousand?  I tell you what I’ll do.”  He had resolved to stake everything upon one last hazard.  “See here, Mr. Wade, there’s a difference, of course, between eight thousand dollars and ten thousand, but the use of money is worth something, isn’t it?  And money down, cold hard cash, is worth something, isn’t it?  Well, now, suppose you got that eight thousand dollars money down within three days?”

Hiram Wade still demurred a little longer for the sake of his own self-respect and his dishonoured hairs, but in the end it was agreed that if the money was paid over to him in full before the end of the following week he would be content and would agree to the compromise.  Eight thousand dollars would still be enough to buy out his partner’s interest, and even then he would have a little left over with which to improve a certain steaming apparatus.  If the amount was paid in full within a week he could get control of the cleaning-works in time to catch all of the summer trade.

Geary had calculated that this last argument would have its weight; the great difficulty now was to get Vandover to sell at such a low figure and upon such short notice.  He almost despaired of his success in this quarter; however, it all depended upon Vandover now.

Early in the forenoon of the next day Geary pounded on the door of Vandover’s sitting-room, pushing it open without waiting for an answer.  Vandover was lying in his shirt-sleeves on the corduroy divan under the huge rug of sombre colours that hung against the wall, and he did not get up as Geary came in; in fact, he hardly stirred.

“Hello!” cried Geary, closing the door with his heel.  “Didn’t expect to find you up so early. I’ve been up since half-past six; had breakfast at seven, fine cutlet, and then got down to the office at twenty minutes of eight.  How’s that for rustling, hey?”

“Yes?” said Vandover, dully.

“But, say,” exclaimed Geary, “what’s all the matter with you?  You look all frazzled out, all pale around the wattles.  Ah, you’ve been hitting up a pace again.  You’re a bird, Van, there’s no use talking!  All night racket this trip?”.