"Did you wire it up for me?" Doctor Masterson added.
"Oh, I fixed you all right, Doc. He'll show up at your place, sure enough. That accident tip worked all right and I got him going pretty good about his leg. He's got your card and I give you a recommendation, I don't think! You want to look out about what you say about me. We ain't on speaking terms, you understand, and you're a fakir, for fair. You can get back at me all you want, only don't draw it hard enough to scare him away."
Doctor Masterson grinned, showing his line of black fangs, and stuck his thumbs into his waistcoat pockets placidly. "Oh, I'm used to being knocked, don't mind me. I'll charge him for it. If I'm going to be the villain of this here drama, I'll do it up brown."
"Let's see now. I s'pose you can probably hold him about two months, can't you?" said Vixley, stroking his pointed black beard and spitting into the fireplace.
"Oh, not so long as that," said Madam Spoll. "We want to get to work on that book proposition. A month's plenty long enough. They ain't much money in it."
"I don't know." Doctor Masterson shook his head. "I've strung 'em for six months many's the time."
"Women, perhaps, but not men," said the Madam.
"Well, maybe. Men are liable to be in more of a hurry, of course."
"And women ain't so much, with you, are they?"
The two men laughed cynically.