But she would not let it come to that, and continued in a wheedling tone: "Well, this happens to be my business, and I speak to you as a friend, Frank, for your own good as well as mine. You can take it or leave it, of course; I ain't a-going to try and put coercion on to you, and there's time enough to decide when we get Payson wired up. Then I'll talk to you just once more. You just think it over a while, and don't do nothing rash."
Granthope arose to leave. He was for a more romantic game, himself. The vulgarity here offended him esthetically rather than ethically, and yet he winced at the insinuations Madam Spoll had made.
"I think I can go it alone," he said; "as for rashness, I won't promise."
He had gone but a few minutes when Professor Vixley entered and shook a long lean claw with Madam Spoll, took off his coat and sat down. "Well," he said affably, "how're they coming, Gert?"
"Oh, so-so; Frank Granthope's just been here."
"Is that so! Did you get anything out of him?"
"No. And he wants his Payson notes back again. What d'you think of that!"
Vixley crossed his legs, and whistled a low, astonished note. "We're goin' to have trouble with Frank, I expect."
Madam Spoll's smooth forehead wrinkled. "Frank's a fool! He's leary of us, and I believe he'll throw us down if we don't look out."
"Most time to put the screws on, ain't it?"