"We do all right," Forsythe said cheerfully. "A volume of half a million dollars last year."
"You trade right up to the limit, don't you?" the stranger asked casually.
"Right to the limit. How about you?"
"Not so good. I've got a poor territory. It seems capitalism went out of style thirty years ago."
Forsythe chuckled. "That's the way it goes when the corporation hands out territories. You pays your money and you takes your choice." He paused. "What did you want to see me about?"
The stranger suddenly stood up. Something cold and metallic glittered in his hand.
"You've got a good territory, Forsythe. Better than you deserve. And much better than mine."
Forsythe paled. "What do you intend to do?"
The stranger's voice was menacing. "This is a rough age, Forsythe. Any one of a dozen things can happen to a huckster in an age like this."