“Easy, easy,” said Pryor, soothingly. “I’ve just told you I don’t want to come in at all.”
“Then what do you want?”
“I came to tell you just one thing: to go easy up there at Mr. Madison’s house.”
Corliss laughed contemptuously. “It’s my house. I own it. That’s the property I came here to sell.”
“Oh, I know,” responded Pryor. “That part of it’s all right. But I’ve seen you several times with that young lady, and you looked pretty thick, to me. You know you haven’t got any business doing such things, Corliss. I know your record from Buda Pesth to Copenhagen and——”
“See here, my friend,” said the younger man, angrily, “you may be a tiptop spotter for the government when it comes to running down some poor old lady that’s bought a string of pearls in the Rue de la Paix——”
“I’ve been in the service twenty-eight years,” remarked Pryor, mildly.
“All right,” said the other with a gesture of impatience; “and you got me once, all right. Well, that’s over, isn’t it? Have I tried anything since?”
“Not in that line,” said Pryor.
“Well, what business have you with any other line?” demanded Corliss angrily. “Who made you general supervisor of public morals? I want to know——”