"What was the trouble, Mike?" he asked.
"I simply sought to pass him to get to your office, when he confronted me with the insulting remark, 'No pimps allowed in there—your office—without permission of the boss.'"
"He's a good clerk, Mike; he is; and he serves me well."
"Too well, Mr. Dieman, for your safety."
"Ha, ha! Well, he has my instructions, and you know the password to this office."
"I do, sir; but I resent the insult."
"All right, my boy, it's over with now; Eli is a good one for me, you know."
"I reckon he is," returned Mike.
"Now, what can I do for you?" asked Peter, eyeing Mike with one of his singularly inquisitorial stares, which gave Mike a spell of the fidgets.
"I was sent here by the keeper of our place to know the outlook for a continuance of police protection," he replied without any circumlocution about saying what he had in mind.