Mr.Washer looked at it with a grunt, stuffed it in his waistcoat pocket and slammed out of the door.

Mr.Courtney winked at himself in the glass.
Old Mort Washer would try to take advantage of him, to the extent of an eighth of a million dollars, would he! Make his old friend Courtney take an eighth of a million less than he paid, eh?
Mr.Courtney whistled a merry little tune.
Fifteen minutes later, Old Mort Washer bounced into Loring's office.
"Mr.Gamble ?" he popped out.
Both gentlemen turned to him, but Loring turned away.
"I'm Gamble," stated that individual.
"I'm Morton Washer." Since Mr.Gamble was aware of that fact and was expecting this visit, he betrayed no surprise.
"What can I do for you, Mr.Washer ?" he inquired.
"Are you taking bona fide subscriptions to your Terminal Hotel Company ?" "No other kind interests me." "How nearly is your company filled ?" "Why do you want to know?
Do you figure on taking some stock ?" "No." "What do you want ?" "Your price on the property.

Will you sell it ?" "Of course I will--at a profit." "How much ?" "Two million seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars." "Keep it!" snapped Washer, and started for the door.
"Much obliged," returned Johnny cheerfully, and returned to his combination daybook, journal, ledger and diary.

"Ashley, I put in four hours' overtime, Monday.

Do I enter that on the debit or credit side ?" Loring stifled a snicker.
"I think I'd open a separate account for that," he solemnly advised.
"I say," renewed Washer, returning one pace, "who are some of your prospective stockholders ?" "Close, of the Fourth National, is one; Mr.Courtney is another; Colonel Bouncer is another.