Ah, you bet, I was clever enough to see that.  I waltzed him right over when I began to speak of ready money, cash down.  As soon as he’d squeal I’d spring cold cash on him, money down, and he’s hit gravel like an ostrich.  Well,” he went on deliberately after a pause, getting up from the table and standing before Vandover, his hands in his pockets, “well, I think that’s the best I can do for you, Van.  It’s a good deal better than I expected, but I’ve done the best I could for you, and I would advise you to see him on the proposition.”

“All right,” said Vandover.  “Go ahead.”

Geary was perplexed.  “Well, you think that’s a good thing, don’t you?  You think I’ve done my best for you?  You see it as I do, don’t you?”

Vandover withdrew his eyes from the other wall, glancing under heavy eyelids at Geary, and with a slight movement of his head and shoulders replied: 

“Of course.”

“Have you got the money?” asked Geary eagerly; then, irritated at his indiscretion, hastened to interrupt himself.  “You see, he hasn’t put his proposition into writing yet, but it’s like this:  if you can pay him eight thousand dollars in cash before the end of next week he’ll sign a document to the effect that he is satisfied.”

“I’ve got no money,” said Vandover quietly.

“I was afraid you wouldn’t have,” said Geary, “but you can raise it somewhere.  You had better close with the old man as soon as you can, Van, while he’s in the mood for it; you’ll make a clear two thousand by it.  You can see that as well as I can.  Now, where can you—­how is your property fixed?  Let’s see!  Here’s the statement you made to me the other day,” continued Geary, drawing his shorthand notes from his portfolio.  “How about this piece on California Street, the one that you have rented, the homestead, you know?”

“Yes, there’s that,” answered Vandover, changing the position of his head upon his clasped hands.

“But that’s pretty well papered up already,” returned Geary, consulting his notes.  “You couldn’t very well raise another mortgage on that.’”

“I’d forgotten,” answered Vandover.  “There’s the block in the Mission.  He can have that.”

Geary began to tremble with excitement.  It looked as though he might be able to make the deal after all.  But the next instant he grew suspicious.  Vandover’s indifference puzzled him.  Might he not have some game of his own?  The idea of playing off his cleverness against that of an opponent strung his nerves in an instant; the notion of an impending struggle was almost an inspiration, and his innate desire of getting the better of a competitor, even though it was his closest friend, aroused his wits and sharpened his faculties like a stimulant.  He had no hesitancy in sacrificing his chum.  It was business now; friendship ceased to be a factor in the affair.  Ah, Van was going to be foxy; he’d show him that he could be foxy, too.