Bertram Atkey

“ Honesty's best. Be honest, and you will eat well and sleep well. Be a crook, and you'll be miserable all your life. Why, I wonder they let you come away alive from the Rajah of Jolapore's house. I am amazed. It's a dangerous business putting these skin games over on dark parties like that, Barnard. And you're only an also-ran, anyway. There's been a better man than you on the business—and he fell down on it, too. D'you know him—a crook named Paradix Dix?”
Croucher nodded sullenly. “I've heard of him.”
“Who is Paradix Dix?” continued the Honorable John. ”

“ Dame Dix is after a concession from the Rajah. She's acting for somebody who wants to create a ghi monopoly in Jolapore.”
“Ghi?” said the Colonel. “What the devil is ghi?”
“It's a kind of native butter—pretty awful stuff, I understand. It's about the only kind of fat they get. Must be a sort of margarine substitute.”
“Well, but who's going to eat that? The consumer—in this country—can eat most things (the poor devil's got to) , but this ghi will about finish him off!” said the Colonel. “Margarine substitute! There's no such thing! How can there be? ”

“ HENRY LE HAY nodded approval, and the Honorable John proceeded to give details of the nature of the concession required by Mr. and Mrs. Paradix Dix, presumably for some “client” or other.
“What we don't understand is this: if a man buys ghi, which is pretty cheap, how the devil can he clean it and purify it and sell it back at a profit to people who can hardly afford it in its first condition?” demanded John.
The lips of the lard czar twitched a little.
“Well, how can a firm afford to sell lard in the can for less per pound than it costs them on the hog?” he asked. ”

“ And the description of what this money-mammoth was, as furnished to the partners by his wife when they first met, being crisp yet comprehensive, may bear repetition.
“They call him 'Lard' Le Hay in the States because he is lard, really. He's quite the lard czar. Probably there is never a time when he owns less than seventy per cent of all the lard in America. I don't know what your cook pays for lard now, but I do know that if my husband cared to say 'Sky lard!' to his people, the price would rise throughout the world.” ”

“ Few men think less of money than I do—but few men dread poverty more. Money, as money, means less than nothing to me. After all, what is it?” He puffed reflectively at a cigar that had cost almost as much as it would have been worth if composed of ten-shilling notes. “What is it, this money? ”

“ A great friend of ours, the Rajah of Jolapore, is being bothered by some people for a concession which will give them the control—both buying and selling—of all the native butter produced in Jolapore—his kingdom. ”

“ Still, that's how it goes, Mirza, my lad. Turn down your old pals when they're no further use to you—yes, turn 'em down, I say—can't you hear?—turn 'em down and keep 'em down! And skin 'em out of their share! That's the way of the world. We know. Everybody's doing it.”
His voice was very bitter indeed. “I suppose we're old-fashioned, Mirza. Can't keep up with these modern ideas. But—wait a minute, let me speak—we're loyal to you, my lad. ”

“ The Honorable John summed up.
“Evidently the concession is valuable to somebody, for no man is going to go out of his way to erect a ghi-purifying factory in Jolapore for amusement. It's not an amusing business,” he added, with truth. “And anybody who'll hand the Rajah those letters can have the concession—that's clear, isn't it, Mirza? So we'd better make a note that we shall require those letters. We can see to that—a job for Sing. You know where the Dix birds roost, I suppose, Mirza? ”

“ Meekly enough Barnard gave them up—also his revolver—and Mr. Brass released him.
“Give him a drink, old man,” he said good-naturedly to the Colonel, and surveyed the limp Croucher.
“You're a damned fine blackmailer, Barnard, my son,” he said. “Take my advice—go home and get a steady job in a laundry. Hey? Sounds good, hey?”
MR. CROUCHER was understood to say that it was-good enough.
“Y'see, laddy, you aren't crook enough for blackmail. Honesty, my lad! Stick to honesty. You can't beat it. East, west, honesty's best. Thats my motto—and I don't mind your sharing it. It's big enough for two. ”

“ Not to mention other things!” chuckled Mr. Brass. “Well, well, that's the maker's funeral—or the consumer's; anyway, it's not ours.”
But Mr. Le Hay did not appear to hear him. The lard czar was thinking—thinking hard. They saw that, and left him to think while they constructed further apéritifs. In a moment he rose, and with a word of excuse, left them for a moment. He wished to see his secretary, it appeared.
He was back almost at once.
“This concession—” he said. “The figures relating to ghi and ghi-authorities are small—small but interesting. ”

“ Paradix Dix.
But the Honorable John seemed strangely even morbidly, fascinated by fats.
“You know, Le Hay,” he said quite sincerely, “I've got a great admiration for a man like you. You've got such a lamp out for possibilities. You do things in a big way. You don't haggle. There must be a heap of money in these fats.” ”

“ With treatment, this could be transformed into delicious dairy butter—American, Canadian, English, Danish, any kind of fresh butter for which there is a high-priced demand. Or lard, or anything else.”
Mr. Brass turned a little pale.
“A man never knows what he's eating, nowadays,” he said. “Damn this science, I say. However—business is business.”
“Yep,” said Le Hay. “I will buy the concession. I wish to take hold of the ghi industry. It might be made worth while. The modern fats business is a very intricate business, and there's a place for ghi in it. ”

“ Each representing a certain proportion of somebody's labor, skill, thought or knowledge: that's all it amounts to. It ain't having it does a man good—though I'll admit it does him no harm, at least not me: it's the getting it that brightens up his wits—polishes him up. ”