“Terms?” he queried.
“Cash.”
“Impossible.”
“Well, then, fifty thousand in cash and the balance on secured notes.”
“Impossible.”
“I had a suspicion you have dissipated in crazy deals most of your share of the money we made during the war. Well, it appears you cannot buy me out, and until our rice deals have been safely disposed of, if not at a profit at least without loss, I do not yearn to take over your share. It might prove a very bad investment. However, for reasons which would never occur to you, I am willing, once the rice deals have been disposed of, to buy you out on a basis of the actual value of our assets, but with nothing additional for good-will. All the good-will value of Casson and Pritchard has been created by my father and myself.”
“I shall not sell on that basis.”
“Very well. The day on which our last note is paid I am relieved of all contingent liability as a partner in Casson and Pritchard. We will dissolve partnership. That will kill your credit with our bankers and I shall sit calmly by and watch you go to smash. When you’ve had your beating, sir, you will be glad to sell—at my terms. I am generous now. You may be sure I shall not be generous then.”
Old Casson glowered, puffed at his cigar and then studied the ash reflectively.
“While you were busy this morning unloading that Shanghai rice at a paltry eight thousand dollars profit—just because you lack the courage of a jack-rabbit—I disposed of the Manila rice at the market.”