"What's your business?" he demanded curtly.
"What's yours?" retorted the Westerner quickly.
"I'm a broker."
"I'm a reporter."
"What kind?" inquired Brockton.
"General utility—dog fights, and dramatic criticisms."
"Pay you well?" asked Brockton carelessly.
The journalist started and looked up sharply at his interlocutor.
"That's a pretty fresh question!" he exclaimed. "What's the idea?"
"I'm interested—that's all," replied Brockton coolly. Knocking the ash off his cigar, he continued: "I'm a plain man, Mr. Madison, and I do business in a plain way. Now, if I ask you a few questions and discuss this matter with you in a frank way, don't get it in your head that I'm jealous or sore, but simply I don't want either of you people to make a move that's going to cost you a lot of pain and trouble. If you want me to talk sense to you, all right. If you don't we'll drop it now. What's the answer?"