You'll be in the clear in ten years
at the very latest; the stock I'm selling you now will be worth a
hundred thousand--with your management. Here's the contract, which
embodies a promissory note. Sign it, endorse the stock to me to
secure the payment of the note, and then clear out of here. Not a
peep out of you, sir, not a peep. If you say 'Thank you' I'll change
my mind about selling."
Mr. Skinner's hand trembled a little as he wrote his name across the
backs of the stock certificates and appended the same clear, concise
signature to the note. Silently he wrung Cappy's hand.
"Get out," rasped Cappy. Mr. Skinner got out.
CHAPTER XXXIII
CAPPY'S PLANS DEMOLISHED
Four more months passed, and peace reigned in the offices of the Blue
Star Navigation Company. Matt Peasley's name had never been mentioned
in Mr. Skinner's presence since that dark day when he had ventured,
for the first time in his career, to lay down the law to Cappy Ricks.
The pick-handle still reposed behind Skinner's desk, but that was
merely because he had forgotten all about it, and nobody ever touched
any of his property without his permission. Not once had Matt
Peasley's cheerful countenance darkened the Skinner horizon.
This, then, was the condition of affairs when the office boy carried
to Mr.
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