Adolph Schlimmer’s wink was of the self-satisfied variety that plainly says to the person at whom it is directed, “They’re mostly fools in this world—except you and me, and I’m not quite sure about you.” Adolph Schlimmer was a small man, but he thought he had enough worldly wisdom and sharpness for a giant. “You bet you, I don’t get fooled very much,” he boasted.
Just now his wink was directed at Carroll Brown, an insurance solicitor.
“How much iss there in it for you?” he asked.
“Oh, I get my commission, of course,” replied Brown.
“Sure, sure,”—and again Adolph winked. “You don’t need it all, maybe.”
“Why not?” asked Brown with disconcerting frankness. “I’m entitled to what I earn.”
“Sure, sure,” admitted Adolph, somewhat annoyed. “It’s vorth something to you to make the money, ain’t it, yes? I gif you the chance. It might be vorth something to me, perhaps, maybe.”
“Oh, if you want me to divide my commission with you,” exclaimed Brown, “we might as well quit talking right here. It would cost me my job, if anybody found it out.”
“Who iss to find it out? I bet you, if people could find out things, we’d haf more people in jail than out. Some big men, vorth millions, would haf to live a century to serf their time out. The boss discharges hiss clerk for doin’ what he iss doin’ himself.”
“It’s against the law,” argued Brown. “It’s a rebate on premiums and is prohibited.”