Part 79 (1/2)
”Maybe I don't and then again maybe I do. It won't be as good as your copy, p'r'aps. But it'll get _some_ coin, I reckon. Take a look,” he taunted, and tossed his proofs to the other.
The quack broke forth at the first glance. ”Look here! You claim fifty thousand tons of copper in sight.”
”So there is.”
”With a telescope, I suppose.”
”Well, telescope's sight, ain't it? You wouldn't try to hear through one, would you?”
”And $200,000.00 worth, ready for milling,” continued the critic.
”Printer's error in the decimal point,” returned the other, with airy impudence. ”Move it two to the left. Keno! There you have it: $2000.00.”
”Very ingenious, Mr. McQuiggan,” said Hal. ”But you're practically admitting that your ads. are faked.”
”Admittin' nothin'! I offer you the ads. and I've got the ready stuff to pay for 'em.”
”And you think that is all that's necessary?”
”Sure do I!”
”Mr. McQuiggan,” remarked Ellis, ”has probably been reading our able editorial on the reformed and chastened policy of the 'Clarion.'”
Hal turned an angry red. ”That doesn't commit us to accepting swindles.”
”Don't it?” queried McQuiggan. ”Since when did you get so pick-an'-choosy?”
”Straight advertising,” announced Dr. Surtaine, ”has been the unvarying policy of this paper since my son took it over.”
”Straight!” vociferated McQuiggan. ”_Straight?_ Ladies and gents: the well-known Surtaine Family will now put on their screamin' farce ent.i.tled 'Honesty is the Best Policy.'”
”When you're through playing the clown--” began Hal.
”Straight advertising,” pursued the other. ”Did I really hear them sweet words in Andy Certain's voice? No! Say, somebody ring an alarm-clock on me. I can't wake up.”
”I think we've heard enough from you, McQuiggan,” warned Hal.
”Do you!” The promoter sprang from his chair and all the latent venom of his temper fumed and stung in the words he poured out. ”Well, take another think. I've got some things to tell you, young feller. Don't you come the high-and-holy on me. You and your smooth, big, phony stuffed-s.h.i.+rt of a father.”
”Here, you!” shouted the leading citizen thus injuriously designated, but the other's voice slashed through his protest like a blade through pulp.
”Certina! Ho-oh! Warranted to cure consumption, warts, heart-disease, softening of the brain, and the b.l.o.o.d.y pip! And what is it? Morphine and booze.”
”You're a liar,” thundered the outraged proprietor: ”Ten thousand dollars to any one who can show a grain of morphine in it.”
”Changed the formula, have you? Pure Food Law scared you out of the dope, eh? Well, even at that it's the same old bunk. What about your testimonials? Fake 'em, and forge 'em, and bribe and blackmail for 'em and then stand up to me and pull the pious plate-pusher stuff about being straight. Oh, my Gawd! It'd make a straddle-bug spit at the sun, to hear you. Why, I'm no saint, but the medical line was too strong for my stomach. I got out of it.”
”Yes, you did, you dirty little dollar-s.n.a.t.c.her! You got put of it into jail for peddling raw gin--.”
”Don't you go raking up old muck with me, you rotten big poisoner!”
roared McQuiggan: ”or you'll get the hot end of it. How about that girl that went batty after taking Cert--”