“That’s a dismal enough opening,” announced Gresham with a pained expression.  “It is impossible to secure a decent price for property, especially when you want to sell it.”

“If you want to get rid of some I’ll buy it,” offered Gamble promptly.

“I want cash.”  And again Gresham smiled over at Constance.  The slight trace of a frown flitted across her brow.  She had always thought of Gresham as a man of perfect breeding.

“Name the right figure.  I’ll make a deal with you on the spot.”

“This is scarcely the place for business,” Gresham reproved him.

“I beg pardon,” Gamble quickly said, and looked at Constance, a trifle abashed.

“Please go ahead,” that young lady urged.  “This is more fun than the races.”

“Thanks.”  He smiled gratefully, “Now, Gresham, let’s get down to statistics.  These are working hours.  Here’s twenty-five hundred.”

“What for?” asked Gresham, looking at the money avariciously.

“To show confidence in the dealer.  You have a vacant lot up-town.  What’s it worth?”

“Forty thousand dollars,” recited Graham.

“If you want forty it’s worth thirty,” Gamble sagely concluded.  “I’ll split it with you.  Give you thirty-five.”

Gresham shook his head; but Gamble, watching him closely, saw that he was figuring.

“I can’t let the property go for less than its value.”

“I don’t want you to.  I offered you thirty-five.”

“On what terms?” inquired Gresham cautiously.

“Thirty days cash.  This twenty-five hundred is a first payment.  I want a renewable option.  If I don’t cross over with the balance in thirty days, spend the money.”

“What do you mean by a renewable option?” asked Gresham, hesitating.

“When this option runs out I get another at the same price—­and twice more after that.”

“Nonsense!” exclaimed Gresham, turning away.  “Why, I’d be letting you tie up my property for four months.”

“I’m offering you over eighty per cent, a year.  You’d rather stay tied.”

Gresham pondered that problem for a moment.

“By Jove, you’re right!” he said.  “I’m selfish enough to hope that you can’t pay for it in thirty days.”  He reflected that in all probability this reckless person was playing another long shot.  “I’ll take you.”

Gamble piled the money into his hands, and with Polly’s fountain-pen, wrote a clear and concise statement of the option upon the back of an unimportant letter.  Gresham, as soon as he had finished counting the money with caressing fingers, read and reread the option cautiously—­and signed it.

Polly reached out for it.

“Let me witness this,” she requested with a glance of meaning at her friend Johnny; and, writing the word “Witnesses” in its proper place, she signed her name and passed the paper to Miss Joy.  “Come in, Constance; the water’s fine,” she invited.  “Be a witness with me and let’s all be in vulgar trade.”