THE CITY OF *
NUMBERED DAYS
6/ FRANCIS LYNDE • • -
ILLUSTRATIONS by C.D.RHQDES * • •
i COPYRIGHT BY CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS
SYNOPSIS.
CHAPTER I—Brouillard, chief engineer
on the Nlquola irrigation darn go*s out
from camp to investigate a strange Mght
and finds an automobile party camped at
the canyon portal.
CHAPTER IX—Brouillard meets .1 Wes
ley Cort wright and his daughter Gene
vieve of the auto party and explains the
reclamation work to them.
CHAPTER III Cort wright sees in the
project a big chance to make money “and
no chance for a man to get in anywhere ’’ ;
Brouillard Is impervious to hints from the
financier, who tells (lenevleve the engi- '
,n.e!J "*'}} home down and hook himself
if the bait is well covered.”
CHAPTER IV-Cort wright organizes a
company and obtains government con- '
tracts to furnish power and material for
the dam construction. A busy citv '
rprlngs up about the site. Steve Massin
*ale to st“." a KOld rush if
Brouillard does not Influence President
lord to build a railroad branch to the
place, thus opening an easy market for
the ore from the "Utile Susan” mine.
CHAPTER V—Brouillard and the rom
pany s promoter clash, hut on orders from
Washington Brouillard turns over the
plans for the power Installation.
CHAPTER VI—On a visit to Amv Mas
slngale at her father’s mine Brouillard
finds she understands him better than he
had thought.
CHAPTER VII He tells her of his need
for money to pav off his dead father's
debts arid that t • be free he would sacri
fice anything sa.e his love for one wom
an. Though hts influence Is vllal to the
building of the railroad extension she
tells him to be true to himself. He de
cides for it.
CHAPTER VIII—Mlrapolls. the city of
numbered days, booms. Cort wright per
suades Brouillard fco become consulting
engineer of the consolidated electric pow
er company in return for $100,000 stock.
CHAPTER IX-Rumors that the govern
ment will call a halt on the dam cause
Orislow to tell Brouillard that he |s lean
ing to the Cortwrlght side to make the
city permanent. Brouillard denies It.
CHAPTER X—Permanent hutlding 1n
Mtrapolis and a real estate boom are in
full swing w'hen the stoppage of work on
the railroad threatens a panic Brouillard
spreads the Masstngale story of placer
gold In the river bed and starts a gold
rush.
CHAPTER XI—The gold rush promises
to stop the reclamation project.
CHAPTER XTI—Amy tells Rroulllnrd
that her father has Incorporated the “Kit
tle Susai ’’ and is in Cort wright’s dutches
financially. He tells her he has made
$100,000 and declares his love. Amy loves
him hut shows him that he has become
demoralized.
CHAPTER XIII—Masstngale’s placer
gold find was a fraud, but a real find is
"The community Is certainly virions
enough to warrant any charge you can
make,” admitted Brouillard. Then he
changed the topic abruptly. "Have you
Been Miss Massingalo since noon?"
“Yes; 1 saw her with Smith, the
cattleman, at the other end of the ave
nue about an hour ago.”
"Heavens!” gritted the engineer.
"Didn't Smith know better than to
take her down there at such a time as
this?”
The young missionary was frowning
thoughtfully. "1 think it was the
other way about Her brother has been
drinking again, and I took it for grant
ed that she and Smith were looking
for him.”
Brouillard buttoned his coat and
pulled his soft hat over his eyes.
“I’m going to look for her." he said.
“Will you come along?”
Castner nodded, and together they
put their shoulders to the crowd. Again
and again the engineer and his com
panion had to intervene by word and
blow to protect the helpless in the
half-drunken, gibe flinging crush, and
in these sallies Castner bore his part
like a man, expostulating first and hit- i
ting out afterward in a fashion that
left no doubt in the mind of his antag
onist of the moment.
‘It was little less than a crime to
turn your laborers loose on the town
on such an occasion as this,” said Cast
ner, dealing out his words as frankly
and openly as he did his blows.
Brouillard shrugged.
"If I hadn't given them the day
they would have taken it without leave
You’ll have to pass the responsibility
on to someone higher up."
The militant one accepted the chal
lenge promptly.
"It lies ultimately at the door of
those whose insatiate greed has built
this new Gomorrah In the shadow of
your dam.” He wheeled suddenly and
flung a long arm toward the half-fin
ished structure filling tho gap between
the western shoulders of Chigringo
and Jack's mountain. “There stands
the proof of God’s wisdom in hiding
the future from mankind, Mr. Brouil
lard. Because a little section of hu
manity here behind that great wall
knows the end of its hopes, and the
manner and time of that end, it be
comes demon-ridden, irreclaimable!
At another time the engineer might
have felt the force of the tersely elo
quent summing up of the accusation
against the Mirapolitan attitude. But
now he was looking anxiously for Amy
Massingale or her escort, or both of
them.
“Surely Smith wouldn’t let her stay
down hpre a minute longer than it
took to get her away.” he said impa
tiently as a pair of drunken Cornish
men reeled out of Haley's place and
usurped the sidewalk. "Where was It
you saw them, Castner?"
“They were in front of ‘Pegleg
John's,' in the next block. Miss Mas
Bingale was wailing for Smith, who
was just coming out oT Pegleifs don
shaking his head. I put two and two
together and guessed they were look
ing for Stephen.”
If they went there Miss Amy had
her reasons. Let’s try it,” said Brouil
lard, and he was half-way across the
street when Castner overtook him.
1 here was a dance hall next door to
Pegleg John's barrel house and gam
bling rooms, and, though the daylight
was still strong enough to make the
electrics garishly unnecessary, the
orgy was in full swing, the raucous
clanging of a piano and the shuflle
and stamp of many feet drowning the
monotonous cries of the sidewalk
“barker,” who was inviting all and
sundry to enter and join the dancers.
Castner would have stopped to ques
tion the "barker”—was, in fact, trying
to make himself heard—when the
sharp crash of a pistol shot dominated
the clamor of the piano and the stamp
ing feet. Brouillard made a quick dash
for the open door of the neighboring
barrel house, and Castner was so good
a second that they burst in as one
man.
The dingy interior of Peglefe John’s,
which was merely a barrel-lined vesti
bule leading to the gambling rooms
beyond, staged a tragedy. A handsome
young giant, out of whose face sudden
agony had driven the brooding pas
sion of intoxication, lay, loose-flung,
on the sawdust-covered floor, with
Amy Massingale kneeling in stricken,
tearless misery beside him. Almost
within arm's reach Van Bruce Cort
wright, the slayer, was wrestling stub
bornly with Tig Smith and the fat
armed barkeeper, who were trying to
disarm him, his heavy face a mask of
irresponsible rage and his lips bub
bling imprecations.
"Turn me loose,” he gritted. “I’ll fix
him so he won't give the governor's
snap away! He’ll pipe the story of
the Coronida grant off to the papers?
—not if I kill him till he’s too dead to
bury, I guess.”
Castner ignored the wrestling three
and dropped quickly on his knees be
side Stephen Massingale, bracing the
misery-stricken girl with the needed
word of hope and directing her in low
tones how to help him search for the
wound.
But Brouillard hurled himself with
an oath upon young Cortwright, and it
was he, and neither the cattleman nor
the fat-armed barkeeper, who wrenched
the weapon out of Cortwrlght’s grasp
and with It menaced the babbling mur
derer into silence.
gjjg CHAPTER XV
V Quicksands
A short week after the reclamation
service headquarters had been moved
from the log-built offices on the gov
ernment reservation to the commodi
ous and airy suite on the sixth floor of
the Niquoia building Brouillard re
ceived the summons which he had
been expecting ever since the night
of rioting and lawlessness which had
marked the close of the railroad cele
bration.
"Mr. Cortwright would liTce to see
you in his rooms at the Metropole,”
was the message the office boy brought,
and Iirouillard closed his desk with a
snap and followed the boy to Bongras’.
The shrewd-eyed tyrant of Mirapo
lis was in his shirt sleeves, busily dic
tating to two stenographers alternate
ly, when the engineer entered the third
room of the series; but the work was
suspended and the stenographers were
sent away as soon as Brouillard was
announced.
"Well,” was the millionaire’s greet
ing. "you waited to be sent for, didn't
you?'
“Why not?” said Brouillard shortly.
"I have my work to do and you have
yours.”
"And the two jobs are at opposite
ends of the string, you'd say. Never
mind; we can’t afford to throw each
other down, and just now you can
tell me a few things that I want to
know. How is young Massingale get
ting along?"
"As well as could be expected. Car
ruthers—the doctor—says he is out of
danger.”
"H'm. It has been handed in to me
two or three times lately that the old
man is out gunning for Van Bruce or
for me. Any truth in that?”
“I think not. Massingale Is a Ken
tuckian, and I fancy he is quite capa
ble of potting either one or both of
you for the attack on his son. But so
far he has done nothing—has hardly
left Steve's bedside.”
Mr. J. Wesley Cortwright flung him
self back in bis luxurious swing chair
and clasped his pudgy bands over the
top of his head where the reddish gray
hair was thinning reluctantly.
"I’ve been putting it off to see which
way the cat was going to Jump,” he ad
mitted. “If young Massingale is out of
danger, it is time to get action. What
was the quarrel «bout, between him
and Van Bruce?"
"It occurs to me that your son would
be a better source of information,"
said Brouillard, evading.
"Van Bruce has, tflldl fflfi all. &e rp
members—which isn’t much, owing to
his own beastly condition at the time.
He says young Massingale was threat
ening something—something in con
nection with the Coronida grant—and
that he got the insane idea into his
head that the only way to stop the
threat was by killing Massingale.”
The sandy-gray eyes of the million
aire promoter were shifting while he
spoke, but Brouillard fixed and held
them before he said: "Why should
Massingale threaten your son, Mr.
j Cort wright?”
"1 don't know." denied the promoter,
and he said it without flinching a hair’s
breadth.
“Then 1 can tell you,” was the equal
; ly steady rejoinder. "Some time ago
you lent David Massingale, through the
bank, a pretty large sum of money for
development expenses on the 'Little
Susan,’ taking a mortgage on every
thing in sight to cover the loan. But
when the railroad was an assured fact
he learned that the Red Butte smelt
ers wouldn’t take his ore, giving some
technical reason which he knew to be
a mere excuse.”
Mr. Cortwright nodded. "So far you
might be reading it out of a book.”
"In consequence, David Massingale
finds himself in a fair way to become
a broken man by the simplest of com
mercial processes. The bank holds his
notes, which will presently have to be
paid. If he can't pa^, the bank comes
L
J
Brouillard Hurled Himself With an
Oath Upon Young Cortwright.
back on you as his indorser, and you
fall back on your mortgage and take
the mine. Isn't that about the size of
It?"
"It is exactly the size of it. I do
want the ‘Little Susan’ and I’ve got a
good friend or two in the Red Butte
smelters who will help me get it.”
Brouillard's black eyes were snap
ping, but his voice was Quite steady
when he said: "Thank you. That
brings us down to the mention of the
Coronida grant and Stephen Massin
gale’s threat—which your son can't re
member.”
"Right-o,” said Mr. Cortwright. still
with predetermined geniality. “What
was the threat?"
"I don't know, but the guessing list
is open to everybody. There was once
a grant of many square miles of moun
tain and desert somewhere in this re
gion made to one Don Estacio de Mon
tarriba Coronida. Like those of most
of the gr«at Spanish land grants, the
boundaries of this one were loosely
described and—”
Mr. Cortwright held up a fat hand.
"I know what you're going to say.
Rut we went into all that at Washing
ton before we ever invested a single
dollar in this valley. As you may or
may not know, the reclamation serv
ice bureau tried to choke us off. But
when it came down to brass tacks,
they lacked a witness. We may be in
the bed of your proposed lake, but
we're safely on Coronida land.”
j “So you say,” said Brouillard quietly,
| "and on the strength of that you have
been guaranteeing titles. Just there
is where Massingale comes in, I imag
ine. He has spent twenty years or
more in this region, and he knows
every landmark in it. What if he
should be able to put a lighted match
to your pile of kindling, Mr. Cort
wright?”
The promoter pulled himself eract
with a grip on either arm of the chair.
‘'Brouillard, do you know what you
are talking ubout?” he demanded.
"No; it is only a guess. Rut as mat
ters stand—with your son indictable
for an attempted murder ... if I
were you, Mr. Cortwright, I believe
I'd give David Massinga.le a chance to
pay those notes at tho bank.”
"And let him blackmail me? Not in
a month of Sundays, Brouillard! Let
him sell his ore and pay the notes if
he can. If he can't, I'll take the mine.”
“All right," said the visitor placably,
i “You asked, and I've answered. Now
let’s coma to something more vita), to
both of us. There is a pretty persist
ent rumor on the street that you and
your associates succeeded in getting a
resolution through both houses of con
gress at the last session, appointing a
committee to investigate this Coronida
claim right here on the grouftd. No
body seems to have any definite de
tails. and it possibly hasn’t occurred
to anyone that congress hasn't been in
session since Mirapolis was born. But
that doesn't matter. The committee
is coming; you have engaged rooms
for it here in Bongras’. You are ex
pecting the private-car special next
week.”
"Well?” said the magnate. “You're
a pretty good kindergartner. But what
of It?”
"Oh, nothing. Only I think you
might have taken me in on the little
side play. What if 1 had gone about
town contradicting the rumor?”
"Why should you? it's true The
congressional party will be here next
week, and nobody has made any secret
Of it."
“Still, I might have been taken In,”
persisted Brouillard suavely "You’ll
surely want to give me my instruc
tions a little beforehand, won't you?
Just think how easily things might get
tangled. Suppose I should say to some
body—to Garner, for example—that
the town was hugely mistaken; that
no congressional committee had ever
been appointed; that these gentlemen
who are about to visit us are mere
complaisant friends of yours, coming
as your guests, on a junketing trip at
your expense. Wouldn't that be rather
awkward ?”
The mayor of Mirapolis brought his
hands together, fist in palm, and for a
flitting instant the young engineer saw
in the face of the father the same ex
pression that he had seen in the face
of the son when Van llruce Cortwright
was struggling for a second chance to
kill a man.
“Damn you!” said the magnate sav
agely; “you always know too much!
You’re bargaining with me!”
“Well, you have bargained with me,
first, last and all the time,” was the
cool retort. "On each occasion 1 have
had my price, and you have paid it.
Now you are going to pay it again.
Shall I go over to the Spotlight office
and tell Marian what I know?”
“You can't bluff me that way. Brouil
lard. and you ought to sense it by this
time. Do you suppose 1 don't know
how you are fixed?—that you’ve got
money—money that you used to say
you owed somebody else—tied up in
Mirapolis investments?”
Brouillard rose and buttoned his
coat.
"There is one weak link in your
chain, Mr. Cortwright,” he said even
ly; “you don’t know men. Put on your
coat and come over to Harlan’s office
i with me. It will take Just about two
minutes to satisfy you that I’m not
bluffing.”
For a moment it appeared that the
[ offer was to be accepted. But when
he had one arm in a coat sleeve,
Brouillard's antagonist in the game of
hardihood changed his tactics.
“Forget it.” he growled morosely.
“What do you want this time?”
“I want you to send a wire to Red
Butte telling the smelter people that
you will be glad to have them handle
the ‘Little Susan' ore.”
“And if I do?”
“If you do, two things otherwise due
to happen adversely will go over to
your side of the market. I'll agree to
keep out of the way of the sham Wash
ington delegation, and I think I can
promise that Harlan won't make a
searehead of the facts concerning the
Coronida land titles."
Mr. Cortwright. thrust the other arm
into the remaining coat sleeve and
scowled. But the rebound to the norm
of brusque good nature came almost
immediately.
“You are improving wonderfully.
Brouillard, and that’s no joke. I have
a large respact for a man who can out
bid me in my own corner. You ought
to be in business—and you will be,
some time. I ll send the wire, but I
warn you in advance that I can’t make
the smelter people take Massingale's
ore if they don't want to. All 1 can do
is to give the old man a free field."
“That is all he will ask—all I’ll ask,
except one small personal favor: Don’t
rub your masquerading Washington
delegation into me too hard. A fine
quality of noninterference is about all
you are buying from me.”
“Tell me one thing, Brouillard:
What is your stake in the Massingale
game? Are you a silent partner in the
‘Little Susan'?”
“No.”
“Then why are you so anxious to
make old David a rich man at my ex
pense? Are you going to marry the
girl?”
Thp engineer did not resent the ques
tion as he would have resented it a
few weeks earlier. Instead he smiled
and said: “A little while ago, Mr.
Cortwright, I told you that you didn't
know men; now I'll add that you don’t
know women.”
Public opinion, skillfully formed up
on models fashioned in Mayor Cort
wright's municipal laboratory, dealt
handsomely with the little group of
widely-heralded visitors—the "con
gressional committee.” When it was
whispered about, some days before the
auspicious arrival, that the visiting
lawmakers wished for no public dem
onstration of welcome, it was resolved,
both in the city council and in the
Commercial club, that the wish should
be rigidly respected.
Hence, after the farewell banquet at
ttyi Commercial club, which, eten
the toasts had ignored the official mis
sion of Mayor Cortwright's guests, tin
gling curiosity still restrained itself,
said nothing and did nothing until the
train had stormed out on the begin
ning of its steep climb to War Arrow
pass. Then the barriers went down. In
less than half an hour after the depar
ture of the visitors, the Spotlight of
fice was besieged by eager tip huntere,
and the Metropole cafe and lobby were
thronged and buzzing like the compart
ments of an anxious beehive.
Hnrlan stood the pressure at the
newspaper office as long as he could.
Then he slipped out the Dack way.
There was a light in Brouillard's office
on the sixth floor of the Niquoia build
ing, and thither he went, hoping
against hope, for latterly the chief of
the reclamation service had been more
than usually reticent.
"What do you know. Brouillard?”
was the form his demand took.
"Go to Cortwright,” suggested the
engineer. "He's your man."
, “Just come from him, and 1 couldn’t
get a thing there except his admission
that he is buying instead of selling.”
‘‘Well, what more do you want'
Haven’t you any imagination?”
"Plenty of it and by Gad, I'm going
to use it unless you put it to sleep!
Tell me a few correlative things
Brouillard. and I’ll make a noise like
going away. Is it true that you’ve had
orders from Washington within the
past few days to cut your force on the
dam one-half?”
The engineer was playing with the
paperknife, absently marking little cir
cles and ellipses on his desk blotter
and the ash on his cigar grew a full
quarter of an inch before he replied:
“Not for publication, Harlan, I’m
sorry to say."
“But you have the order?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Then I’ll ask only one more
question, and if you answer it at all 1
know you’ll tell me the truth: Are
you, individually, buying or selling on
the real estate exchange?”
Brouillard did take time, plenty of it
Harlan was a student of men, but his
present excitement was against him
Otherwise ho would have interpreted
differently the sudden hardening of the
jaw muscles when Brouillard spoke.
"I’m buying, Harlan; when I sell It
is only to buy again.”
The newspaper man rose and held
out his hand.
“You’re a man and a brother, .Broull
lard, and I’m your friend for life. I'm
going to stay until you give me the
high sign to crawl out on the bank. Ie
that asking too much?"
"No. If the time ever comes when 1
have anything to say. I’ll Bay it to you
But don't lose sight of the ‘if,’ and
don't lean too hard on me. I’m a
mighty uncertain quantity these days.
Harlan, and that's the truest thing I've
told you since you butted In. Good
night.”
Mirapoiis awoke to a full sense ol
its opportunities on the morning fol
lowing the departure of its distln
guished guests. Ft^- ten o’clock it was
tiie talk of the lobbies, the club, and
the exchanges that the reclamation
service was already abandoning the
work on the great dam. One-half of
the workmen were to be discharged at
once, and doubtless the other hall
would follow as soon as the orders
could come from Washington.
Appealed to by a mob of anxious in
quirers, Brouillard did not deny the
fact of the discharges, and thereupon
the city went mad in a furor of specu
lative excitement in comparison with
which the orgy of the gold discov
erers paled into insignificance. "Curb'
exchanges sprang into being in the
Metropole lobby, in the court of the
Niquoia building, and at a dozen street
corners on the avenue. Word went to
the placers, and by noon the miners
had left their siuice-boxes and were
pouring into town to buy options at
prices that would have staggered the
wildest plunger otherwhere, or at any
other time.
BrouiUard closed his desk at one
o’clock and went to fight his way
“Looks Like I Need a Janitor to Look
After My Upper Story, Don’t It?” !
through the street pandemonium to
Bongras’. At a table in the rear room
he found David Massingale. his long,
white beard tucked into the closely
buttoned miner's coat to be out of the
way of the flying knife and fork, while
he gave a lifelike imitation oj a man
begrudging every second of time
wasted in stopping the hunger gap.
Brouillard took the opposite chair
and was grimly amused at the length
of time that elapsed before Massingale
realized his presence.__ _
“Pity a man has to stop to eat on a
day like this, isn’t It, Mr. Massingale?"
he laughed; and then: "How Is
Steve?”
Massingale nodded. "The boy’s
cornin' along all right now. They're
sayin’ on the street that you’re lettin’
out half o’ your men—that so?”
Brouillard laughed again. "Yes, it’s
true. Have you been doing something
in real estate this morning, Mr. Mas
singale?”
“All I could,” mumbled the old man
between mouthfuls. "But I cayn’t do
much. If it aln t one thing, it's an
other. ’Bout as soon as I got that
tangle with the Red Butte smelter
straightened out, the railroad hit me."
“How was that?” queried Brouillard,
with quickening interest coming alive
at a bound.
"Same old song, no cars; try and get
’em tomorruh, and tomorruh it’ll be
next day, and next day it'll be the day
after. Looks like they don't want to
haul any freight out o’ here.”
“I see,” said Brouillard, and truly
he saw much more than David Mas
singaie did. Then: “No shipments
means no money for you, and more de
lay; and delay happens to be the one
thing you can’t stand. When do those
notes of yours fall due?”
Masslngale was troubled, and his
fine old face showed it plainly.
"I ain't much of a man to holler
when I've set the woods afire myself,”
he answered slowly. “But I don't know
why I shouldn’t yip a little to you if I
feel like it. Today is the last day on
them notes. I been to see Hardwick
at the bank, and he gave me the ulti
rnaytum good and cold."
One of Bongras’ rear-room luxuries
was a portable telephone for every
group of tables. Brouillard made a
sign to the waiter, and the desk set
was brought to him. If David Mas
slngale recognized the number asked
for, he paid no attention; and, since a
man may spend his life digging holes
in the ground and still retain the in
stincts of a gentleman—if he happens
to have been born with them—he was
equally oblivious to the disjointed half
of the telephone conversation he might
have listened to.
“Hello! Is that Boyer—Niquoia Na
tional? . . . This is Brouillard.
Can you give me my present figure?
. . . Not more than that? . . .
Oh, yes; you say the Hillman check is
in; I had overlooked it. All right,
thank you.”
When the waiter had removed the
desk set, the engineer leaned toward
his table companion:
“Mr. Massingale. I’m going to ask
you to tell me frankly what kind of a
deal it was you made with Cortwright
and the bank people.”
"It was the biggest tom-fool razzle
that any livin’ live man out of a luna
tic 's.vlum ever went into.” confessed
the prisoner of fate. “I was to stock
the 'Susan' for half a million—oh. she's
worth it. every dollar of it; you might
say the ore’s In sight for it right now'’
—this in deference to Brouillard’s
brow-lifting of surprise. "They was to
put in a hundred thousand cash, and l
was to put in the mine and the ore oh
the dump. Just as she stood.”
The engineer nodded and Massingale
went cn.
“I was to have two-thirds of the
stock and they was to have one-third.
The hundred thousand for develop
ment we'd get at the bank, on my
botes, because I was president and the
biggest stockholder, with John Wes,
as indorser. Then, to protect the bank
accordin’ to law, they said, we’d put
the whole bunch o’ stock—mine and
their’n—into escrow in the hands of
Judge Williams. When the notes was
paid, the judge d hand the stock back
to us."
“Just a moment," interrupted Broull
lard. "Did you sign those notes per
sonally, or as president of the new
company?”
"That's where they laid for me,”
said the old man shamefacedly. “Right
there is where John Wes' ten-dollar-a
bottle sody-pop stuff we was soppin’
up must ’a’ foolished me plumb silly.’’
"So it amounts to this: You have
given them a clean third of the 'Susan’
for the mere privilege of borrowing
cne hundred thousand dollars on yoUr
own paper. And if you don't pay, ycu
lose the remaining two-thirds as well."
“That’s about the way it stacks up
to a sober man. Looks like I needed a
janitor to look after my upper story,
don’t it? And I reckon mebby I do."
“One thing more,” pressed the re
lentless querist. "Did you really handle
the hundred-thousand-dollar develop
ment fund yourself, Mr. Massing*)*?”
"Well, no; not exactly. Ten thou
sand dollars of what they called a
■contingent fund’ was put in my name;
but the treasurer handled most of it—
nachurly, we bein’ a stock company."
Brouillard took out his pencil and
began to make figures on the back of
the menu card. He knew the equip
ment of the "Little Susan," and his
specialty was the making of estimates.
Hence he was able to say. after a min
ute or two of figuring:
’’It’s a had business any way you at
tack it. What you have reully got for
yourself out of the deal is the ten thou
sand-dollar deposit to your personal ao
count, and nothing more; and they'll -
probably try to make you a debtor for
that. Taking that amount and a fair
estimate of the company's expendi
tures to date—say thirty-five thousand
in round numbers, which is fairt*.
chargeable to the company's assets a*i
a whole—they still owe you about fifty
five thousand of the original hundred
thousand they were to put in. If
there were time—but you say this ip,7
the last day?”
“The last half o’ the last day,” Mas*
singale amended. „ . __ __ _
(Continued Next Week.)