"That will be the second."
"Well, what does that matter to me?"
"What does it matter to you?"
"If you have sold your ticket at the door, it is no affair of mine."
"Ah! so you take me for a dealer in checks?"
"I take you for a brawler who has just been turned out for disturbing the peace, and if you go on doing it, you'll not be led out into the road the next time, but into the police station."
There could be no mistaking the threat. I began to understand that, without intending it, I had infringed the law—or rather custom, which is far more jealous of contravention than the law.
"Ah, is this so?" I said.
"That is about it," said the collector.