“There's something the trouble in this town and I'd like to know what it is.”
“There it is,” barked Britt, pointing to Elias. “That's the principal trouble—a lunatic spreading lunacy like smallpox.”
“But what is it all about?” insisted Bangs, “What's this new excitement?”
“I know nothing about any excitement, sir. I attend to business instead of gossip. If you can make it your business to take this pest to state prison, where he probably belongs if his record could be dug up, the town of Egypt will be all right again.”
“Pharaoh, I have a message of comfort for you,” stated the Prophet. “This night do I depart from the land of Egypt. I go and I shall not return.”
For some moments Britt did not find words with which to reply. Then he mumbled something about good riddance and shaking the dust from the feet.
“I shall shake all the dust from my feet this side of the border line,” said Elias. “Your land of Egypt cannot spare any soil.”
“You are getting away just in time,” rasped the usurer. “I have been tolerating you since you got back from jail because I've been too busy to tend to your case.”
“Ah!” commented Elias, mildly.
This subtle humility goaded Britt's wrath more effectually than the Prophet could have prevailed with resentful retort.