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Wodehouse, P. G. (Pelham Grenville), 1881-1975

"Piccadilly Jim"

"
"You believe in Partridgite, then?"
"Oh, can it," said Lord Wisbeach disgustedly. "What's the use?
Of course I believe in it. Burke's had his eye on the thing for a
year. You've heard of Dwight Partridge, haven't you? Well, this
guy's his son. Every one knows that Dwight Partridge was working
on an explosive when he died, and here's his son comes along with
a test-tube full of stuff which he says could blow this city to
bits. What's the answer? The boy's been working on the old man's
dope. From what I've seen of him, I guess there wasn't much more
to be done on it, or he wouldn't have done it. He's pretty well
dead from the neck up, as far as I can see. But that doesn't
alter the fact that he's got the stuff and that you and I have
got to get together and make a deal. If we don't, I'm not saying
you mightn't gum my game, just as I might gum yours; but where's
the sense in that? It only means taking extra chances. Whereas if
we sit in together, there's enough in it for both of us. You know
as well as I do that there's a dozen markets which'll bid against
each other for stuff like that Partridgite. If you're worrying
about Burke giving you a square deal, forget it. I'll fix Burke.
He'll treat you nice, all right."
Jimmy ground the butt of his cigarette against his plate.
"I'm no orator, as Brutus is; but, as you know me all, a plain,
blunt man. And, speaking in the capacity of a plain, blunt man, I
rise to reply--Nothing doing.


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