This for the face or front of his concerns. "On the
outside," as he phrased it, he was variously and
mysteriously engaged. No dollar slept in his
possession; rather, he kept all simultaneously flying,
like a conjurer with oranges. My own earnings, when I
began to have a share, he would but show me for a
moment, and disperse again, like those illusive money
gifts which are flashed in the eyes of childhood, only
to be entombed in the missionary-box. And he would
come down radiant from a weekly balance-sheet, clap me
on the shoulder, declare himself a winner by Gargantuan
figures, and prove destitute of a quarter for a drink.
"What on earth have you done with it?" I would ask.
"Into the mill again; all re-invested!" he would cry,
with infinite delight. "Investment was ever his word.
He could not bear what he called gambling "Never touch
stocks, Loudon," he would say; "nothing but legitimate
business." And yet, Heaven knows, many an indurated
gambler might have drawn back appalled at the first
hint of some of Pinkerton's investments! One which I
succeeded in tracking home, and instance for a
specimen, was a seventh share in the charter of a
certain ill-starred schooner bound for Mexico--to
smuggle weapons on the one trip, and cigars upon the
other.
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