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Oppenheim, E. Phillips (Edward Phillips), 1866-1946

"The Profiteers"

"A year ago, you told me that the one thing in the
world you needed was money. Well, aren't you getting it? You have only to
run straight with us here, and to work in my interests in another quarter
that you know of, and your fortune is made. Cheer up and look as though
you realised it."
Dredlinton crossed and uncrossed his legs nervously. His eyes were
bloodshot and his eyelids puffy. Notwithstanding careful grooming, he had
the air of a man running fast to seed.
"I am nervous this morning, Phipps," he confided. "Had a bad night. Every
one I've come across, too, lately, seems to be cursing the B. & I."
"Let them curse," was the equable reply. "We can afford to hear a few
harsh words when we are making money on such a scale."
"Yes, but how long is it going to last?" Dredlinton asked fretfully. "Did
you see the questions that were asked in the House yesterday?"
Phipps leaned back in his chair and laughed quietly.
"Questions? Yes! Who cares about them? Believe me, Dredlinton, our
Government has one golden rule. It never interferes with private
enterprise. I don't know whether you realise it, but since the war there
is more elasticity about trading methods than there was before. The worst
that could happen to us might be that they appointed a commission to
investigate our business methods. Well, they'd find it uncommonly hard to
get at the bottom of them, and by the time they were in a position to
make a report, the whole thing would be over.


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