“I’ll take a million; more if need be,” offered Washer.  “I’ve been wanting in on that for some time.  Colonel, what have you got?”

“Five cards,” replied the colonel.

“You have threes,” charged Washer.

“I’m conducting my business through an agent,” laughed Bouncer.  “There it is,” and he indicated the stack of blue chips.

“You have threes,” insisted Washer.  “The reason I’m so particular is that I have threes myself, and I want to know which are the better.”

“There is one clever way to find out,” bantered the colonel confidently.  “You have a lot of chips.  Why are you so stingy with them?”

“That’s the way I got them,” countered Washer.  “I’ll donate though.  I’ll do better than that:  I’ll tap you.”

The colonel promptly counted his remaining red and white chips.  Washer as promptly measured up to them and to the blues.

“Told you the truth!” he exulted.  “I said I had threes, and here they are!  Three tens and a king and another ten!” And he gleefully spread down his cards.  “I caught the pink one.”

“Had mine all the time!” triumphed Colonel Bouncer, throwing down his hand and putting both big arms round the pot.  “Four elevens!” And chuckling near to the apoplexy line he scraped the chips home, while Washer inspected his excellent collection of jacks.  “Now brag, you old bluffer!” And, still chuckling, he began sorting the chips into patriotic piles.

“Enjoy yourselves,” granted Washer, concealing his intense chagrin with as nonchalant an air as possible.  “I give you my word those chips are only loaned.  Go on and laugh!  You fellows make a lot of fuss over a cheap little jack-pot.  Johnny, must you see us Monday?”

“Can’t delay it,” replied Johnny, checking his own laughter for the purpose.  “I’ve paid five hundred thousand of the purchase price.  Another million must be paid in one week and the balance in two weeks.”

“That’s pretty rapid work,” remarked Close, with a frown, beginning swiftly to figure interest.

“The Wobbleses are in a hurry to sail.  I’ve looked into the title.  It’s clear as a whistle.  Can’t we arrange a meeting at my office?”

They settled on a meeting at three-forty-five on Monday while Morton Washer dealt.

“Bless my heart, Mort Washer, that’s the fourth time you’ve turned my first card and it’s always a deuce!” complained the colonel.  “If you do it again I shall be compelled to give you an old-time, school-day licking.”

“You can’t do it and you never saw the day you could,” bristled Washer, brandishing a bony little fist before the colonel’s big face.

“There’s one more question I’d like to ask,” Johnny interposed on this violent quarrel.  “Will it be necessary for me to offer any stock outside this group?”

“I can’t swing but a quarter of a million to save me; possibly only two hundred thousand,” regretted Bouncer.