"I told him he had a strong position. Then he took it. Hullo, here we are in Pall Mall. Now you see, don't you, Major?"
"No, I don't." Duplay was short in manner again.
"You don't see any parallel between Bob's position and our friend's up there in Mount Street?" Harry
laughed again as he held out his hand. "Well, you tell the story to Iver and see if he does," he suggested.
"Oh, that's what you mean?" growled Duplay.
"Yes," assented Harry, almost gleefully. "That's what I mean; only this time it won't hurt you, and I think it will help me. You've done all you could, you know."
The touch of patronage came again. Duplay had hard work to keep his temper under. Yet now it was rather annoyance that he felt than the black dislike that he used to harbor. Harry's misfortune had lessened that. If only Harry had been more chastened by his misfortune the annoyance might have gone too. Unfortunately, the young man seemed almost exultant.
"Well, good-by. Write to Sloyd—unless Iver decides to come up. And don't forget that little story about Bob Broadley! Because you'll find it useful, if you think of frightening Sloyd. He can't move without me—and I don't move without my price."
"You moved from Blent," Duplay reminded him, stung to a sudden malice.
"Yes," said Harry thoughtfully. "Yes, so I did. Well, I suppose I had my price. Good-by." He turned away and walked quickly down the street.