Spencer Meyrick stood, considering.
"However—I've done you a favor." O'Neill went on. "You can do me one. Let Manuel off—on one condition."
"Name it."
"That he hands me at once two hundred dollars—one hundred for myself, the other for my partner. It's legitimate salary money due us—we need it. A long walk to New York."
"I myself—" began Meyrick.
"Don't want your money," said O'Neill. "Want Gonzale's."
"Gonzale's you shall have," agreed Meyrick. "You—pay him!"
"Never!" cried the Spaniard.
"Then it's the police—" hinted O'Neill.
Gonzale took two yellow bills from a wallet. He tossed them at O'Neill.
"There, you cur—"
"Careful," cried O'Neill. "Or I'll punch you yet—"
He started forward, but Gonzale hastily withdrew. O'Neill and the millionaire followed to the street.
