"I'm a much wealthier man than you have ever imagined, George--and we'll both begin to take advantage of the fact at once. Twenty years ago, when I went to end my days in peace under your grandfather's hospitable roof, I was worth close on two hundred thousand dollars. That's a good deal . . . but, wait!" I did so--speechless and open-mouthed. "I intended leaving him everything when I died, but . . . the fates arranged otherwise. Then I came to live with you, when he was gone. And here I am--still spared--and with the money still growing. My expenditure was small; for, after all, there was little I wanted at my age beyond an easy chair by the fireside . . . food and comfort . . . and tobacco, of course. So it came about that nearly every penny of my dividends has been reinvested during the last twenty years, and to-day I'm worth . . . what do you think?" I couldn't think. I was far too amazed at Gran'pa's sudden disclosure of the extent of his worldly wealth after all the years of secrecy before he came to England. "I shouldn't like to say," I stammered. "But it must be some nest egg!" "Well over half a million dollars," he announced, quietly. "There! I've put all my cards on the table, at last, and I suggest five thousand dollars down for you, and then--ten thousand for each year I live. _But_ . . . nothing when I die. How's that, George?" He was actually laughing! "It is--magnificent--staggering!" I exclaimed, trying to remember the present rate of exchange. "But it's silly to make such a proposition." "Is it? We shall see!" "You could rely on my help in any case." "I believe you. In spite of it, however, I think you'll agree that our interests will be identical in future." It would have been futile to dispute such a statement. "I'm with you heart and soul in this gland business," I said. "I always was, but . . ." "Now, George, admit that you're keener than you were." "Willingly!" I laughed. "Shake on it!" We shook! Ninety-five and Thirty-two shook hands on one of the strangest and most thrilling bargains ever made. Some people might have called me mercenary, but, as Gran'pa had said, I was only human, and he really was a nuisance at times! This new arrangement was bound to make me take a keener interest in his welfare. "Now," he said, "we won't count the first move in the game. That monkey's gone for good. It is your turn. . . . Come along, George!" I considered the matter for several minutes before I spoke.