“For how much?”

“That would be telling,” interposed Gamble.

“For how long is your option?” the colonel demanded.

“Thirty days.”

“What are you buying it for—­investment or improvement?”

“That would be telling again.”

“Will you sell it?”

“Depends on the price.”

“What’ll you take for it?”

“Fifty-five thousand.”

“Bless my soul!” exclaimed the colonel.  “Why, man, that’s robbery!  I’ll never pay it.  I’ll take a chance on waiting until your option expires, then I’ll do business with Gresham.  Gresham, what will you want for the property if Gamble, or when Gamble doesn’t take it up? "

“Fifty thousand,” said Gresham, and glanced darkly at Gamble.

Miss Joy interrupted with a laugh.  Gresham looked at her inquiringly, but he did not ask her the joke.  She volunteered an explanation, however.

“I’m just framing a definition of business ethics,” she stated; “but really I don’t see the difference between yours and Mr. Gamble’s.”

“Business ethics consists in finding a man who has some money, and hitting him behind the ear with a sand-bag,” explained the colonel.  “Even your price is a holdup, Gresham; but I think I can buy it for less when the time comes—­if I want it.”

“You’ll have four months to make up your mind,” said Gamble with a triumphant look at Constance.

“I thought your option was for only thirty days.”

“It’s renewable three times.”

“Bless my soul!” shouted the colonel.  “That puts an entirely different face upon the matter.  If you don’t want too much money for it, Gamble, I don’t mind confessing that I’d like to build an extension to my factory on that property.  Now that my defenses are down, soak me.”

“I couldn’t refuse a little thing like that.  I’ll soak you all I can.  I said fifty-five thou-sand, you know.”

“You didn’t mean it, though!” expostulated the colonel.

“What did I mean then?”

“You meant forty thousand.”

“As a mind-reader you’re a flivver,” chided Gamble.  “I’ll let you down one notch, Colonel.  I’ll make it fifty thousand—­and not one cent less.”

The colonel looked at him sorrowfully.

“Do you really mean that, Johnny?” he inquired.

“I really mean it.”

“Well, if you say you really mean it you really mean it.  I know you well enough for that,” admitted the colonel with a sigh.  “It’s a rank robbery though.  I’ll take you, Johnny.”

Gamble turned to Gresham.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll just transfer my option to the colonel,” he suggested.

“The game is in your hands—­for the present,” Gresham acknowledged.

“We’ll just fix it up that way, then, Colonel.  Polly, lend me your fountain-pen again.  Colonel, you may hand me your check for seventeen thousand five hundred.  You may pay the balance of the money to Gresham—­upon delivery, I suppose, of the deed.”