CHAPTER XIA Job
I leaned back in my chair.
“And now,” I said, “am I permitted to ask, Uncle, why you wanted the low-down on this card sharp—of Montreal?”
“Yes, you are. I wanted it—well—for a variety of reasons. One being, George, that five years and some months ago I received a scorching letter from the dirty bastard—er—pup—in which he literally tried to burn the hide off of me.”
“Why?” I asked.
“We-e-ell—” He hesitated. “I suppose I may as well show you the letter itself—or else you’ll claim I’m holding something back. Which I’m not. In fact, I should have gotten the letter out in advance, It’s upstairs in my bedroom. Amidst a lot of papers. However, it’s time anyway for me to go up and take my clockwork medicine. Damn crazy foolishness!”
“Clockwork medicine? What do you mean?”
“
