CHAPTER XXIHard Simon!
He glared at me viciously.
“Where do you get that noise, George?” he inquired, in a voice that was actually a croak. “You win, as well as I. Don’t you get your note paid off?”
I scratched my chin. “Well, I suppose I do at that,” I admitted. I was silent for a few moments. “Though suppose, Uncle,” I put in suddenly, “that I just refused to play in on this thing at all? What then?”
“What then? Well, then figure to see some Boston attorney, whom I’ll hire, just attach all of your nice salary as new sales manager of Recherché—over a period of some 30 weeks or thereabouts.”
“Thirty—weeks? How in hell—”
“Interest, George! Money doubles itself at compound interest in 10 years. The note should, I would think, obtain a judgment of nearly a couple thousand dollars!”
“Oh
