“Five hundred. After that, and before these capitalists turn over their good money, I want forty-five hundred more.” “That’s big pay for fifteen minutes’ work.” “It’s no pay at all for the risk I run.” “Well, well, never mind. Here’s your five hundred.” “Thanks. And the cigarettes?” “Here; two boxes of them.” “Heavens, man! How many do you expect me to smoke during that fifteen minutes?” “As many as you can. The more the better.” “Where do I get the forty-five hundred?” “At Boucicault’s, Hamilton Street, Brooklyn.” “Don’t try any of your Montana tricks with me, you two. I won’t stand for it, and I’ll queer your game if it lands me in the pen.” “Don’t squeal till we throw you down,” put in Starlick. “Bring a duplicate assay certificate, Gillman,” said Ramsay, “and you’ll get your bonus without any question.” “Then I’ll pull out. You fellows may depend on me.” “If you queer this deal, without our throwing you down, you’ll never live to queer another.” “Don’t worry about me. I’m out for the stuff, and this looks like easy money. What time shall I be at Boucicault’s?” “Be there at ten.” “Good!” Gillman went away, and Ramsay and Starlick continued their conversation. “I’m scared all the while I’m in New York, Starlick,” said Ramsay. “On account of this deal?” “Thunder, no. On account of Nick Carter. He only saw me for about a minute, some time ago, and a clean shave and these clothes have changed me. Besides, I introduced myself as Yasmar, not as Ramsay. I’d be willing to take my oath that he never recognized me when I called on him this morning, and yet----” He paused. “Yet what?” urged Starlick. “I’m losing my nerve, I reckon. But you never can tell what Carter thinks, or what he’s going to do. If I could have got him out of town for the next forty-eight hours, I’d be feeling easier, this minute. Hello! What’s that?” A hand tried the door. Failing to gain entrance, the same hand banged on the panel. “It’s all right,” answered Starlick. “No need putting your hand to your hip, old man.” Patsy heard the door open and a gruff voice from the hall: “We’ve got the riggin’ fixed and are all ready ter lower the desk.” “All right. There it is.” “Any idea how long it’ll be kept in storage?” “No. A year, perhaps.” Patsy was doing some hard thinking. He had no desire to spend a year in storage, and it was necessary for him, somehow, to separate himself from the desk. To do it then was out of the question. The workmen went to the windows and took out the sash. Patsy could hear them, and he could also hear Ramsay and Starlick moving about the room. Finally the workmen came to the desk, took hold of it, and shoved it across the room. “Empty, boss?” queried one of the men. “Yes,” answered Starlick. “Mighty heavy for an empty desk.” “It’s an old-fashioned roll-top, and that’s the reason.” “I guess the riggin’ll hold it, all right, but I didn’t figger on havin’ quite so much heft.”