“What would they be worth to Mr. Krutzmacht, if he were here?”
“If Mr. Krutzmacht were alive, they might be worth a great deal,” the banker said cautiously, “and yet they might have no value, now that he is dead.”
“He seemed to think they had some value,” Brainard said flatly.
“And they can’t have lost all their value within a few weeks.”
“One company is bankrupt already. This suit, the irregular manner in which possession of these papers was obtained—” began the banker, fencing.
“What will you give, cash down?” demanded Brainard.
The banker rose from his chair and walked to the window. He pulled out a fresh cigar, lighted it, laid it down, and turned to Brainard.
“It is a great risk. We do not know what we can do with the properties. We shall doubtless have lawsuits. We may lose all. Let us say fifty thousand dollars for everything—everything!” he repeated.
The banker looked keenly at Brainard, as if he thought he had been impressive.
“There are over eight millions of Pacific Northern bonds, and about fifteen millions in stock—besides all the rest,” Brainard observed reflectively. “It won’t do, Mr. Schneider—guess again!”
“Stocks and bonds are worth what you can get for them.”
“Then I’ll wait, and see if I can get more for these,” Brainard suggested smilingly. “There’s no hurry about the matter. I came to you first,” he said, “because I supposed you would have the old man’s account checked up, and know just what was coming to him.”
The banker smiled at the young man’s simplicity.
“Business is not done that way. It is a question to whom the property belongs,” he added meaningly.
“I see! Well, it belongs to me at present—”
“Let us say a hundred thousand—in cash, paid to you personally,” the banker interrupted hastily.
“You think you are bidding for stolen goods, eh, and can get them cheap?” Brainard suggested.
“Four hundred thousand marks is much money!”
“A whole lot of money—no question about that!” the young American remarked with a quizzical smile, thinking that ten dollars was more ready money than he had had, of his own, for many months. “But it isn’t enough!”
“Are you not ready for dinner?” the banker suggested genially. “We can have our dinner here and talk matters over quietly. I will explain.”