“And so—”
“I must investigate this N.C.O. outfit and block it if possible—and it should be possible.”
“How, for instance?”
“I haven't considered the means, my dear. Those come later. For the present I am convinced that the N.C.O. is a corporate joke, sprung on the dear public by the Trinidad Redwood Timber Company to get the said dear public excited, create a real-estate boom, and boost timber-values. Before the boom collapses—a condition which will follow the collapse of the N.C.O.—the Trinidad people hope to sell their holdings and get from under.”
“Really,” said Shirley, demurely, “the more I see of business, the more fascinating I find it.”
“Shirley, it's the grandest game in the world.”
“And yet,” she added musingly, “old Mr. Cardigan is so blind and helpless.”
“They'll be saying that about me some day if I live to be as old as John Cardigan.”
“Nevertheless, I feel sorry for him, Uncle Seth.”
“Well, if you'll continue to waste your sympathy on him rather than on his son, I'll not object,” he retorted laughingly.