"To be sure; to be sure," returned Turner. "But, say--" He paused a moment, and Wallingford, in the act of writing a hasty note to go with the stock certificates, hesitated, his pen poised just above the paper. "What is it?" he asked. "You'll probably have to sell those shares at a sacrifice, Wallingford." "I have no doubt," he admitted. Doc Turner's palms rubbed out a slow decision while Wallingford scratched away at his letter. "Um-m-m-m-m-m-m--I say!" began Turner gropingly. "Rather than have those shares fall into the hands of strangers we might possibly make you an offer for them ourselves. Wait till I see Squinch." He saw Squinch, he saw Tom Fester, he telephoned to Andy Grout, and the four of them gathered in solemn conclave. The consensus of the meeting was that if they could secure Wallingford's shares at a low enough figure it was a good thing. Not one man among them but had regretted deeply the necessity of sharing any portion of the earnings of the company with Wallingford, or with one another, for that matter. Moreover, new stock-holders might "raise a rumpus" about their methods of conducting the business, as Wallingford had started to do. Gravely they called Wallingford in. "Wallingford," said Mr. Squinch, showing in his very tone his disrespect for a criminal, "Mr. Turner has acquainted us with the fact that you are compelled to leave us, and though we already have about as large a burden as we can conveniently carry, we're willing to allow you five thousand dollars for your stock." "For four hundred and ninety-seven shares! Nearly fifty thousand dollars' worth!" gasped Wallingford, "and worth par!" "It is a debatable point," said Mr. Squinch, placing his finger-tips together, and speaking with cold severity, "as to whether that stock is worth par or not at the present moment. I should say that it is not, particularly the stock that _you_ hold." "Even at a sacrifice," insisted Wallingford, "my friend ought to be able to get fifty dollars a share for me." "You must remember, Mr. Wallingford," returned the severe voice, "that you are not so free to negotiate as you seemed to be an hour or so ago. In a word, you are a fugitive from justice, and I don't know, myself, but what our duty, anyhow, would be to give you up." Not one man there but would have done it if it had been to his advantage. "You wouldn't do that!" pleaded Wallingford, most piteously indeed. "Why, gentlemen, the mere fact that I am in life-and-death need of every cent I can get ought to make you more liberal with me; particularly in view of the fact that I made this business, that I built it up, and that all its profits that you are to reap are due to me. Why, at twenty thousand the stock would be a fine bargain." This they thoroughly believed--but business is business! "Utterly impossible," said Mr. Squinch.