“You might, but you won’t,” his caller said, with a half growl. “I’ve taken your measure, Follansbee, and if your time is as valuable as you say, you’ll stop wasting it. I asked your price, and I’m prepared to pay anything in reason to have this business taken off my hands.” The faint semblance of a smile twisted Follansbee’s thin lips. “Rough and ready,” he murmured. “A South American edition of the old ‘wild and woolly’ Westerner. He wants what he wants when he wants it, and he isn’t bashful about asking for it.” He paused for a moment and then went on: “Well, my genial friend, I won’t abuse your confidence. Professional ethics forbid. As for your opinion of me, I care nothing for that. Perhaps I look upon it as only another evidence of mental disease.” “Will you help me or won’t you?” Stone broke in. “Most assuredly I will,” was the quiet answer. “I’ll help you in my own way, and if I’m to do so, you must put yourself wholly in my hands. Will you promise?” Stone’s heart sank, and he looked askance at Follansbee for a few moments. The latter’s words sounded a little too professional to suit him. His belief that the physician was a rascal was rooted deep, however, and overshadowed everything else. “I’ll agree to almost anything if you’ll do what I want done,” he said. “I’ll do what needs to be done,” was the evasive answer. “You asked my terms, though, and I must warn you that they’re high. Some of the richest men in the world come to me, and I have no time to waste with those who cannot afford to pay my price. You can, if you’re willing to do so.” “How much?” Stone asked, in a more subdued tone. Follansbee’s preamble sounded formidable. “I don’t expect to get you for nothing,” the miner went on. “You must know of a thousand ways of—of getting rid of people—ways by which no one would be any the wiser. I’m willing to pay for that knowledge, but I’m not a millionaire, you know.” “I’m aware of that,” piped Follansbee, “and shall take the fact into account. That being so, my fee will be only forty-five thousand dollars!” James Stone started at the mention of this enormous sum. “That is the best I can do,” Doctor Follansbee went on, in his cold tones. “Remember that if I assist you to get rid of your partner, I also assist you to add his share of the proceeds from the sale of the Condor to your own.” The hawklike face was very hard now, and the beady eyes glowed sternly. “You will receive at least four hundred and fifty thousand dollars after the death of Winthrop Crawford,” he continued. “I’m only asking ten per cent of that amount.” His tone was calm and calculating. Stone saw the point which Follansbee had made, but he could not penetrate the latter’s armor.