It's slow work and
dangerous. Ernie lives off of you with something of the voracity of a
leech--no offense intended, Ernie. Now, why not turn your hand to
something big and definite and safe?" He paused to let the idea sink
into Ernie's avaricious soul.
Dick drew a long breath. "Why don't you kill him yourself?" he asked,
shooting a quick, apprehensive look at his brother's face. Ernie's
eyes were glistening.
"I didn't mention a killing, did I?" retorted Grand, momentarily
disturbed. "If I had that in mind, Dick, I daresay I could accomplish
it without calling on you for aid. What I want is to see him landed in
Sing Sing for a long term of years--the limit, you might say."
"See here, Grand, you've called in the wrong stoolpigeon this time.
I'm not in that kind of business. Never in all my life have I put up a
job on a pal, never have I done a trick as dirt-mean as that. I guess
you'll have to count me and Ernie out."
"Don't go off half-cocked, Dick," admonished the Colonel easily.
"You're no fool, nor is Ernie. It's worth just ten thousand between
you if Tom Braddock is landed to-night, with the goods on him, so to
speak.
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