"There's a
stake worth playing for. Think of it!" He turned pleadingly to
Garson. "Half a million, Joe!"
The forger repeated the words with an inflection that was
gloating.
"Half a million!"
"And it's the softest thing you ever saw."
The telephone at the desk rang, and Mary spoke into it for a
moment, then rose and excused herself to resume the conversation
over the wire more privately in the booth. The instant she was
out of the room, Griggs turned to Garson anxiously.
"It's a cinch, Joe," he pleaded. "I've got a plan of the house."
He drew a paper from his breast-pocket, and handed it to the
forger, who seized it avidly and studied it with intent,
avaricious eyes.
"It looks easy," Garson agreed, as he gave back the paper.
"It is easy," Griggs reiterated. "What do you say?"
Garson shook his head in refusal, but there was no conviction in
the act.
"I promised Mary never to----"
Griggs broke in on him.
"But a chance like this! Anyhow, come around to the back room at
Blinkey's to-night, and we'll have a talk.
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