I will state frankly, however, that I believe it to
be over your head. We have several times refused to sell to Colonel
Pennington for a hundred thousand dollars."
"Naturally that little dab of timber is worth more to Pennington than
to anybody else. However, my client has given me instructions to go
as high as a hundred thousand if necessary to get the property."
"What!"
"I said it. One hundred thousand dollars of the present standard
weight and fineness."
Judge Moore's last statement swept away Bryce's suspicions. He
required now no further evidence that, regardless of the identity of
the Judge's client, that client could not possibly be Colonel Seth
Pennington or any one acting for him, since only the night before
Pennington had curtly refused to buy the property for fifty thousand
dollars. For a moment Bryce stared stupidly at his visitor. Then he
recovered his wits.
"Sold!" he almost shouted, and after the fashion of the West extended
his hand to clinch the bargain. The Judge shook it solemnly. "The
Lord loveth a quick trader," he declared, and reached into the
capacious breast pocket of his Prince Albert coat. "Here's the deed
already made out in favour of myself, as trustee." He winked
knowingly.
"Client's a bit modest, I take it," Bryce suggested.
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