In
fact, the more they could make it cost the better I'd be pleased.
"What," roared Nevill, "put myself in the hands of a young fool so that
he may fill his empty pockets with your money! Where do _I_ come in?
Good heavens, Westoby, you're crazy! Think what would happen to me if it
came to Doctor Saltworthy's ears? He'd never have anything more to do
with me!"
Charley Crossman was equally rebellious and unreasonable.
"I guess you've never had the gout," he said grimly.
"But Charley, old man," I pleaded, "all that you'd have to do would be
to let him _talk_ to you. I don't ask you to suffer for it. Just
pay--that's all--pay my money!"
"I'm awfully easily talked into things," said Charley. (There was never
such a mule on the Produce Exchange.) "He'd be saying, 'Take this'--and
I'm the kind of blankety-blank fool that would take it!"
Then I did a mean thing. I reminded Crossman of having backed some bills
of his--big bills, too--at a time when it was touch and go whether he'd
manage to keep his head above water.
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