"Think what comforts you could buy for your granddaughter with $5,000," Carter played his trump card. "And you know this franchise is worthless. You'll never get another offer like this for it."
Carter glanced anxiously at the clock on the mantelpiece. Twenty-five minutes after four. From outside there came a sudden shouting and yelling. Had that fool Swift actually arrived! Perspiration Started to stand out on Carter's forehead. He was so nervous he could hardly sit still. The hesitating old man in front of him aggravated him almost to the point of seizing him by the throat and forcing him into submission to Carter's will!
The argument about Jane's welfare fetched Dillon.
"All right, I'll take the offer," he said quietly. "Jane's always been urging me to give up the line."
"Fine!" almost shouted Carter, so vehemently that Pop looked at him in surprise. Carter whipped a contract from his pocket. "I've got the papers right here! Here's where you sign."
"But—of course I'd have to read this over first," protested Pop, taking the contract with trembling old fingers while Carter reached down, swept up the old man's valise and placed it on Pop's knees as an improvised desk.
"No time for that now," panted Carter. "It's twenty-five after four. Our man will be gone. He's perhaps leaving his office now!"
Carter urged a fountain pen upon Pop. The latter took it uncertainly. He started to write his
