“What way?” Judge Hosmer insisted.
Cotterill’s embarrassed reluctance, if such an emotion can fairly be attributed to the man, passed before the Judge’s encouraging inquiry. “There’s that mortgage,” he suggested. “I know it’s a burden to you. It ain’t that you need the money. You’re paying six per cent. on it, and making more than that on the money it releases for you. Pays any man with a business head to borrow at six per cent. That’s all right. But maybe there are times when you fret a little bit about that mortgage. Well, Judge, you don’t need to. Easiest thing in the world to have it tore up. All you got to do is say the word.”
The Judge did not say the word. Cotterill pursued the subject.
“Maybe there’s something else,” he suggested. “I take it you’re a business man, but I may be wrong. Maybe you don’t know where to get any better than six per cent. for your money. If that’s the trouble, we can help you, too. You don’t know the market. Not your business to. But there are men that do know it. Fact is, they are the market, Judge. They make it jump over a stick whenever they like. Old Tom is in with them. And they’d be glad to show you the way. You wouldn’t have to worry. You just open an account. Put in as much as you like. I can guarantee it’ll double and double for you, pretty regular. Handled right. You can call it a speculation; but it’s not that. Not when the market is trained, way it is. You see how I mean?”
The Judge said nothing at all; and Cotterill threw out his hands with an insinuating gesture. “Or,” he suggested, “it may be you haven’t got any loose money to put in. That’ll be all right. They’ll carry the account for you. Carry it, and take care of it and whenever they make a turnover, mail your check to you. You cash it, that’s all there is.” There was no answering gleam in the Judge’s eye; and Cotterill added hurriedly, “Maybe the notion of a check bothers you. It does leave a trail. But cash don’t. And cash can be got. There won’t be any trouble about that. Nor about how much. We’re responsible people. So are you. Come on, Bob; what’s the answer?”
The Judge said, almost abstractedly, and entirely without heat:
“You’re interesting, Jim; but you’re not convincing. You see, it just happens that I don’t take bribes.”
Cotterill twisted in his chair as though under a blow; and his fat face purpled with anger. He struck his fist upon the edge of the desk before him.
“All right! All right, Bob!” he cried hotly. “If you won’t have it in friendship, take it the other way. You can’t pull this high and mighty on me. You can’t get away with it. What are you after, anyway? I haven’t named a figure. You could have named your own, if you’d been reasonable. ’Stead of that, you’ve got to grow wings and fan ’em like an angel, or something. You can’t pull that with me, Bob. I know too much.”
“What do you know, Jim?” the Judge asked mildly.