THE OFFER
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telegram from one of them furrin' places an' asks me to sell him control of the Yankee Doodle Glory for half a million. . ."
"Who?"
"Don't know. Didn't look at the signature." Truex rammed the paper spill deeper into his blackened pipe bowl. "An' I don’t give two whoops in hell. I'm through with the Yankee Doodle. I'm scared of it."
"That's just what I came here to talk to you about," said Wedekind, leaning across the table. "Listen. . ."
