Your Money Back, by Gordon 
Randall Garrett 
 
Project Gutenberg's ...Or Your Money Back, by Gordon Randall 
Garrett This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and 
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Title: ...Or Your Money Back 
Author: Gordon Randall Garrett 
Release Date: November 18, 2007 [EBook #23534] 
Language: English 
Character set encoding: ASCII 
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ...OR 
YOUR MONEY BACK *** 
 
Produced by Greg Weeks, Bruce Albrecht, Mary Meehan and the 
Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net 
 
... OR YOUR MONEY BACK 
BY DAVID GORDON
Illustrated by Summers 
[Transcriber note: This etext was produced from Weird Tales March 
1951. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. 
copyright on this publication was renewed.] 
[Illustration: There are lots of things that are considered perfectly 
acceptable ... provided they don't work. And of course everyone knows 
they really don't, which is why they're acceptable.... ] 
There are times when I don't know my own strength. Or, at least, the 
strength of my advice. And the case of Jason Howley was certainly an 
instance of one of those times. 
When he came to my office with his gadget, I heard him out, trying to 
appear both interested and co-operative--which is good business. But I 
am forced to admit that neither Howley nor his gadget were very 
impressive. He was a lean, slope-shouldered individual, five-feet-eight 
or nine--which was shorter than he looked--with straight brown hair 
combed straight back and blue eyes which were shielded with 
steel-rimmed glasses. The thick, double-concave lenses indicated a 
degree of myopia that must have bordered on total blindness without 
glasses, and acute tunnel vision, even with them. 
He had a crisp, incisive manner that indicated he was either a man who 
knew what he was doing or a man who was trying to impress me with a 
ready-made story. I listened to him and looked at his gadget without 
giving any more indication than necessary of what I really thought. 
When he was through, I said: "You understand, Mr. Howley that I'm 
not a patent lawyer; I specialize in criminal law. Now, I can 
recommend--" 
But he cut me off. "I understand that, counselor," he said sharply. 
"Believe me, I have no illusion whatever that this thing is patentable 
under the present patent system. Even if it were, this gadget is designed 
to do something that may or may not be illegal, which would make it 
hazardous to attempt to patent it, I should think. You don't patent new
devices for blowing safes or new drugs for doping horses, do you?" 
"Probably not," I said dryly, "although, as I say, I'm not qualified to 
give an opinion on patent law. You say that gadget is designed to cause 
minute, but significant, changes in the velocities of small, moving 
objects. Just how does that make it illegal?" 
He frowned a little. "Well, possibly it wouldn't, except here in Nevada. 
Specifically, it is designed to influence roulette and dice games." 
I looked at the gadget with a little more interest this time. There was 
nothing new in the idea of inventing a gadget to cheat the red-and-black 
wheels, of course; the local cops turn up a dozen a day here in the city. 
Most of them either don't work at all or else they're too obvious, so the 
users get nabbed before they have a chance to use them. 
The only ones that really work have to be installed in the tables 
themselves, which means they're used to milk the suckers, not rob the 
management. And anyone in the State of Nevada who buys a license to 
operate and then uses crooked wheels is (a) stupid, and (b) out of 
business within a week. Howley was right. Only in a place where 
gambling is legalized is it illegal--and unprofitable--to rig a game. 
The gadget itself didn't look too complicated from the outside. It was a 
black plastic box about an inch and a half square and maybe three and a 
half long. On one end was a lensed opening, half an inch in diameter, 
and on two sides there were flat, silver-colored plates. On the top of it, 
there was a dial which was, say, an inch in diameter, and it was marked 
off just exactly like a roulette wheel. 
"How does it work?" I asked. 
He picked it up in his hand, holding it as though it were a flashlight, 
with the lens pointed away from him. 
"You aim the lens at the wheel," he explained, "making sure that your 
thumb is touching the silver plate on one side, and your fingers 
touching    
    
		
	
	
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