“There are two men besides myself who know the facts, and I have succeeded so far in keeping them quiet,” he added.
“I don't know you, but you won't be offended if I assume that you're a man of honor,” I said.
In the half-moment of silence that followed the old fog-siren screeched a warning.
There was a quick, nervous movement of the visitor's body that brought his head a little nearer to me. The fur had begun to rise on the cat's back.
“There's nothing to prevent it,” said he, with a look of surprise.
“Save a possible element of professional pride,” was my answer.
“That vanishes in the presence of a lawyer,” said he.
It was a kind of swift and surprising cuff with the paw, after which I knew him better.
“But we're licensed, you know, and now, your reputation being established, I suggest that you are in honor bound to let us know the names of those men.”
“Excuse me! I'm above that kind of thing—way above it,” said he, with a smile of regret for my ignorance.