"I'm not his keeper."
"I know that!" Hamar said. "Come be reasonable. You want to be a
Croesus--so that you can eat and drink your head off--don't you!
Well! You will! You will be one of the three wealthiest men in the
world--you will have the world at your feet, if only you stick to me
for the next seven months: till we have passed the seventh stage. If
you don't--if either you or Matt deliberately quarrel with me, or
marry--then, as I've dinned into your ears a thousand times, the
Compact will be broken, and--not only that, but some frightful
catastrophe will wipe us off. Now will you do what I ask? Come--a
dinner with me every night this week, at the Piccadilly--champagne--and
no vegetables!"
"All right," Curtis said sulkily, "for the good of the cause I suppose
I must, but I hate spying."
Two nights later in a private room at the Piccadilly, after dinner,
when the champagne and liqueurs had got into Curtis's head and he was
leaning back in his chair, smiling and silly, Hamar suddenly said,
"Ed! you remember what I told you--about watching Kelson. Have you
discovered anything?"
"Shupposing I have," Curtis replied, "shupposing I haven't--whatch
then?"
"Ah, but I know you have," Hamar said, striving to hide his eagerness.
"Come, tell me, another liqueur--I'll square it with the Unknown--it
won't hurt you!"
"Won't it!" Curtis gurgled. "Wont'ch it! I'll tell you everything.
No--nothingsh, I mean.
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