CHAPTER V
THE OFFER
"What do these hieroglyphics mean?" asked Tom of Martin Wedekind the next afternoon, pointing at the signature of the cablegram.
"'G. M. B. H.?'"
"Yes."
"It's an abbreviation for 'Gesellschaft mit beschränkter Haftung.'"
"Sounds like a he-clam singing through his nose," came Tom's observation. "What's the answer?"
"The English for it? 'Company with limited responsibility.' 'Johannes Hirschfeld & Co., Ltd.,' as the English would have it. By the way, some little offer that, Tom! Half a million cold cash. . . Whew!"
"I guess it's some sort of a con game."
"No! Wedekind laughed. "In Germany the name of Johannes Hirschfeld stands for nickel-plated, harveyized-steel, all-wool respectability. The Hirschfelds are hand in glove with the Deutsche Bank, and the Deutsche Bank people are as thick as thieves with the German Government."
"In other words, that offer is O, K.?"
"Sure, Tom. If you want to sell."
Tom Graves shook his bristly, red head. "What knocks me is how that Berlin gang knows about the
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