$5,000 for the Skagpole Venus.
This was a custom between the two whenever they met. John Thomas had but once made a verbal offer for the Venus, and that was $20,000. Since then his bids had mounted upward, by skips, of from one finger to five, representing thousands in real money, until it now stood at $50,000.
"You hard-hearted old reprobate," he squeaked, laughing as Belford approached. "Don't you ever mean to sell me that painting?"
"Well, now then, why should I sell it to you?" asked Belford, a controversial sort of chap, in a raspy, querulous voice. "I'm fond of it myself, and, really, you know, Derrington, you haven't offered me anything at all tempting yet."
"Bless my soul and body, man, tempting!" exclaimed John Thomas. "I daresay you'll make twenty-five thousand on the deal at my last offer. Is that what you call a decent department store profit? Eh, what, eh?" He turned and winked slyly at Miss Anita Maloney and at sight of her, beautifully placid features, seemed suddenly struck with an idea.
"Look here, Bel'," he exclaimed, tapping that gentleman on one fat shoulder. "Have you any sporting blood in you? I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll wager my 'Dance of the Hamadryades' against your 'Venus,' the winner to have the loser's picture at $20,000. What do you say?"
The department store man coughed throatily, and his florid features became a few shades brighter.
"Well, now then, Derrington, what is your idea of a fairish wager?" he asked interestedly.
"My 'Dance of the Hamadryades' against your 'Venus' I can tell you who your son marries," snapped John Thomas.
Belford jumped; the thing struck him almost in a heap. Freddie Belford, apple of his father's eye, had only just arrived at marriageable age, and the elder Belford had never yet thought of matrimony in connection with his only son.
"Now then, look here, Derrington, you're taking an unfair advantage," he finally sputtered. "Frederick isn't likely to marry anybody for some time. If you know about any clandestine love affair my boy has become entangled in you ought to tell me of it without putting a price on your information." His voice was a trifle wheedling as he concluded, for this had hit him in a very tender spot.
"Information is altogether too valuable to part with without making a decent department store profit," chuckled Derrington, winking again at Miss Maloney.
Belford studied the subject again. He was morally certain Frederick had no idea of marrying; yet, if so be it he had, Belford would almost be willing to part with the Skagpole Venus, merely to know the maiden's name, also, he had always coveted Derrington's "Dance of the Hamadryades," and $20,000 for that painting was a low figure.
"Well, now then, Derrington, I think I shall have to take you up there," he rasped. "Who is Frederick going to marry?"
"Wait, wait," protested canny John Thomas. "We must have this thing down in black and white. I'll write
