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.  I have more.”

“Thanks!” snapped Washer.  “I’ll give you two and a half millions for that property.”

“I’d rather finance the Terminal Hotel.  Let me show you a perspective sketch of it, Mr. Washer,” and he opened the drawer of his desk.

“You’ll have to excuse me,” blurted Mr. Washer.  “Good day!” and he was gone.

“I didn’t know you had Close,” commented Loring in surprise.  “How did you hypnotize him?”

“Showed him a profit.  Mr. Courtney told me last night that Close boosted me yesterday, so I sold him some stock this morning.  Say, Loring, how did you square that fifteen thousand attachment?”

“None of your business,” said Loring.

Mr. Washer rushed in to see Mr. Close.

“I see you’ve subscribed for stock in the Terminal Hotel Company,” he observed.  “To accommodate a client?”

“No, because I thought it would be a good investment,” Mr. Close informed him, turning up the edge of a piece of paper and creasing it as carefully as if it had been money.  “Of course I would not care to have my action influence others.”

“Do you think Gamble can fully organize such a company?”

“I think so,” stated Mr. Close.  “Understand, I do not recommend the investment; and my stock is subscribed only on condition that he obtains his full quota of capital.”

“What sort of a man is he?”