Sogrange drew up a chair against which he had been leaning, and sat down.
“Really,” he said, “that would be most inconvenient.” Peter, too, shook his head, sitting upon the end of a sofa and folding his arms. Something told him that the moment for fighting was not yet.
“Inconvenient or not,” Mr. Philip Burr continued, “I have orders to carry out which I can assure you have never yet been disobeyed since the formation of our Society. From what I can see of you, you appear to be very amiable gentlemen, and if it would interest you to choose the method—say, of your release—why, I can assure you we’ll do all we can to meet your views.”
“I am beginning,” Sogrange remarked, “to feel quite at home.”
“You see, we’ve been through this sort of thing before,” Peter added, blandly.
Mr. Philip Burr took a cigar from his case and lit it. At a motion of his hand, one of the company passed the box to his two guests.
“You’re not counting upon a visit from the police, or anything of that sort, I hope?” Mr. Philip Burr asked.
Sogrange shook his head.
“Certainly not,” he replied. “I may say that much of the earlier portion of my life was spent in frustrating the well-meant but impossible schemes of that body of men.”
“If only we had a little more time,” Mr. Burr declared, “it seems to me I should like to make the acquaintance of you two gentlemen.”