“Ask Pharaoh. The kingdom is his.”
“I don't get you!”
The deputy's helper pulled his chief's sleeve and hissed some rapid words of explanation, more fruit gathered from local gossip.
“Oh, so that's what you call him? However, I'm asking you. You ought to know. I've seen you all over the lot, talking with everybody.”
“Ask Pharaoh!” repeated the Prophet, sonorously.
The helper nudged Bangs with a swift punch. “If you feel like taking that advice, boss, here's your chance. There's Tasper Britt.”
The magnate of Egypt was revealed suddenly, coming from the direction of his new mansion. He strode past Elias. “Ask Pharaoh!” advised the Prophet once more, and Britt halted. He came back a few steps and addressed the men on the tavern porch:
“Can't a man who is deputy warden of our state prison find something for amusement better than stirring up a lunatic?”
“I'm not trying to find amusement—not in this town,” returned Mr. Bangs. “I'm after information. He refers me to you—or so I take it!”
“What information?”