“And would it conflict with those ideas,” Pyramid goes on, “if you were required, say twice a week, to spend an hour in a private office, signing your name?”
Egbert thinks he could stand that.
“Very well, then,” says Pyramid, producin’ his checkbook and gettin’ busy with the fountain pen, “here is your first month’s salary in advance. Whenever you find it convenient during the week, report at my offices. Ask for Mr. Bradley. Yes, Bradley. That’s all,” and Pyramid lights up one of his torches as satisfied as though he’d just bought in a Senator.
As for Egbert, he stows the check away, taps me on the shoulder, and remarks real friendly, “Well, professor, no hard feelings, I hope?”
“Say, Eggie,” says I, “seems to me I expressed myself once on that point, and I ain’t had any sudden change of heart. If I was you I’d beat while the beatin’s good.”
Egbert laughs; but he takes the advice.
“Huh!” says I to Pyramid. “I expect that’s your notion of making a funny play, eh!”
“I’m no humorist, Shorty,” says he.
“Then what’s the idea?” says I. “What do you mean?”
“I never mean anything but cold, straight business,” says he. “That’s the only game worth playing.”