I looked at Simmons.
"Perfectly correct!" he says, outgrinnin' Alex.
"You—did all that for nothin' I hollers, not believin' my ears.
"Well, hardly that," says Alex, lightin' a half-dollar cigar. "You see I loaned Mister Simmons thirteen thousand dollars, if you remember, so that he could make his machine."
"Yeh, yeh!" I says, gettin' impatient. "And—"
"Well, as it stands now," says Alex, "every time the machine turns out a neckband, he gets a cent out of the two and a half cents profit."
"Sure—he told me that!" I says. "But where do you get off?"
Alex grins some more.
"I own the machine!" he says. "Have a cigar, cousin?"