"Fire when ready," he assented.
"I know a way," said Kellogg slowly, "by which, if you'll discard a scruple or two, you can be worth a million dollars—or thereabouts—within a year."
Duncan held a lighted match until it singed his fingertips, the while he stared agape. "Say that again," he requested mildly.
"You can be worth a million in a year."
"Ah!" Duncan nodded slowly and comprehendingly. He turned aside in his chair and raked a second match across the sole of his shoe. "Let him rave," he observed enigmatically, and began to smoke. "No, I'm not dippy; and I'm perfectly serious."
"Of course. But what'd they do to me if I were caught?"
"This is not a joke; the proposition's perfectly legal; it's being done right along."
"And I could do it, Harry?"
"A man of your calibre couldn't fail."
"Would you mind ringing for Robbins?" Duncan asked abruptly.