“I suppose so,” answered Vandover, never moving.

“But you do look gone-in this morning, sure,” continued Geary, seating himself on the edge of the table and pushing back his hat.  “Never saw you looking so bad; you ought to be more careful, Van; there’ll be a smash some time.  Ah, you bet a man ought to look out for his health.  I walk downtown every morning, and three times a week I take a cold shower as soon as I get up.  Ah, I tell you, that braces a fellow up; you ought to try it; it’s better than a dozen cocktails.  You keep on getting thin like you have for the past few days and I’ll have to be calling you Skinny Seldom-fed again, like we used to.  Now, tell the truth, what time did you get to bed last night?  Did you go to bed at all?”

“No,” replied Vandover with a long breath, looking vaguely at the pipe-rack on the opposite wall.

“I thought as much,” answered Geary.  “Well, that’s like you.”  He paused a moment, and then went on, nervously gesturing with both his hands simultaneously.  “Well, I’ve had a long talk with Wade.  I tell you, Van, that old boy is as stubborn as a mule.  You see, he knows he’s got a case.  I couldn’t talk him out of that.  I’ll tell you how it is,” continued Geary, preparing to spring another mine; “he’s found a letter Ida wrote you the day before she killed herself.”  He paused to watch the effect upon Vandover.  Vandover waited for him to go on, but seeing that he did not and that he expected him to say something, nodded his head once and answered: 

“I see.”

“Don’t you know, that letter that she wrote to you telling you how it was, how she was fixed?” repeated Geary, puzzled and irritated at Vandover’s indifference.

“I know.”

“Well, he’s got it, anyhow,” pursued Geary, “and of course that tells against you.  Well, I had a long talk with him yesterday afternoon and I got him to compromise.  Of course, you know in suits like this one a party sues for a great deal more than he expects to get.  At first you know he said twenty-five thousand; that figure was decided upon at the first interview he had with us.  Of course, he could never get judgment for that much.  But he hung out at ten thousand; said it would be selling his daughter if he took any less.  Now I knew you couldn’t raise that much on any property you have, especially in these hard times—­” Geary paused for the fraction of an instant; he had thrown out the last remark as a feeler, to see what Vandover would say; but his chum said nothing, staring vaguely at the opposite wall, merely making a faint sign to show that he understood, closing his eyes and bending his head.  “And so,” continued the other, “I jewed him down, and what do you suppose?  Well, sir, from twenty-five thousand I brought him right down to, say, eight thousand.  I could see that he had some scheme that he wants to go into right away, and that he wants ready money, right on the nail, you know, to carry it through.