Five Thousand an Hour: How Johnny Gamble Won the Heiress
you some stock in my Terminal Hotel Company." 

 "Give me some papers to sign," ordered Washer, producing his check-book. 

 Gresham met the colonel and Courtney on Broadway in full regalia just as they were turning in at the newest big cafe to dine that night. 

 "I'm sorry to tell you, Mr. Courtney, that my warning of this noon was not unfounded," he remarked. "Perhaps, however, you already know it." 

 "No, I don't," returned Courtney, eying the correctly dressed Gresham with some dissatisfaction. "I'm not even sure of what you mean." 

 "About a certain man with whom you are doing business." 

 "Oh—Gamble?" 

 "What's the matter with Gamble?" bristled the colonel. 

 "Why, Gresham hinted to me this morning that Gamble had financial obligations he could not meet," explained Courtney. "It seems that he met them, however." 

 "Of course he did!" snorted the colonel. 

 "I hadn't intended to make the matter public property," stated Gresham with an uncomfortable feeling that he was combating an unassailable and unaccountable prejudice. 

 "Bless my soul, you're succeeding mighty well!" blurted the colonel. "Now, tell us all you know about my friend Gamble. Out with it!" 

 "I beg you to understand, Mr. Courtney, that I am inspired by a purely friendly interest," insisted Gresham with very stiff dignity. "I thought it might be of value for you to know—if you were not already informed—that an attachment for fifty thousand dollars upon Mr. Gamble was laid against your Terminal Hotel property this afternoon." 

 Mr. Courtney paused to consider. 

 "At what time was this attachment issued?" 

 "At three-thirty, I was informed." 

 Mr. Courtney's reception of that important bit of news was rather unusual, in consideration of its gravity. He threw back his head and laughed; he turned to the colonel and, putting his hand upon his old friend's shoulder, laughed again; he put his other 
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