As if the company would hold
a little grafting against as good a man as Curtis!"
Schnitzel coughed and pretended it was his cigarette.
"You see you don't put in nothing against him," he added savagely.
It was the first time I had seen Schnitzel show emotion, and I was moved
to preach.
"Why don't you quit?" I said. "You had an A1 job as a stenographer. Why
don't you go back to it?"
"Maybe, some day. But it's great being your own boss. If I was a
stenographer, I wouldn't be helping you send in a report to the State
Department, would I? No, this job is all right. They send you after
something big, and you have the devil of a time getting it, but when you
get it, you feel like you had picked a hundred-to-one shot."
The talk or the drink had elated him. His fish-like eyes bulged and
shone. He cast a quick look about him. Except for ourselves, the
smoking-room was empty. From below came the steady throb of the engines,
and from outside the whisper of the waves and of the wind through the
cordage. A barefooted sailor pattered by to the bridge. Schnitzel bent
toward me, and with his hand pointed to his throat.
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