“Has that grasping old monopolist gumshoed into town again?” inquired Washburn, and promptly ordered his secretary to get Boise on the telephone.  “How much do you want for that land?” he asked while he waited.

“Half a million dollars,” stated Johnny.  “No, I mean five hundred and ten thousand,” he hastily corrected, remembering his five-thousand-dollar debt to Polly, and planning a five-thousand-dollar betrothal blow-out that should be a function worth while.

“Half a million’s a lot of money,” Washburn soberly objected.

“I said half a million and ten thousand, spot cash and to-day,” Johnny carefully corrected.

“You’re joking.”

“Am I smiling?” demanded Johnny.  “Washburn, if I can’t get that odd ten thousand I’m in no hurry to sell.”

Washburn’s bell rang, but he went into the next room to talk to Boise.  He came back resigned.

“We’ll need a few days for the formalities,” he suggested.

“You don’t need a minute,” denied Johnny.  “You looked up the title weeks ago, and you know it’s all right.  The formalities can be concluded in thirty minutes if you’ll send your attorney down with me.”

“But what’s the rush?” demanded Washburn, averse to paying out cash with this speed.

“I want the money,” explained Johnny.

“All right,” gave in Washburn.  “You may see Jackson at two o’clock and wind up the business.  He’ll hand you a check.”

“For five hundred and ten thousand?” inquired Johnny with proper caution.

“For five hundred and ten thousand,” repeated Washburn.  “It’s a fool-sounding amount, but Boise said that if I wouldn’t pay it he would.”

“May I speak to Boise a minute?” asked Johnny.

“This deal’s closed,” hastily cautioned Washburn with his hand on the telephone.

“Of course it’s closed,” acknowledged Johnny.  “I want to invite Boise to a party.”

CHAPTER XXV

IN WHICH JOHNNY KEEPS ON DOING BUSINESS TILL THE CLOCK STRIKES FOUR

The hired auto had plenty to do.  It carried Johnny to court, where he made a deposition against Gresham; it carried him to the office of the Amalgamated Steel Company, where he had the bonds that Gresham had transferred to him registered in his own name; it carried him to the appointment with Washburn’s lawyer, who destroyed a full hour and a half of palpitating time; and it carried all of them to Loring’s office, into which they burst triumphantly at twenty minutes of four.

At that hour Loring’s office was crowded with loafers, the same being Colonel Bouncer, Morton Washer, Joe Close, Ben Courtney, Val Russel and Bruce Townley.

“This being a sporting event of some note, I gathered up a nice little bunch of sports to see the finish,” explained Val Russel with a graceful bow.  “Loring passed me the word that he expected you to nose under the wire in record time.  You must show us the million dollars you were to have by four P. M., on Wednesday, May thirty-first.”