"And she threw me over for a fellow who had some money. That made me huffy, of course. I swore I'd shake the dust of New York from my shoes, go to some foreign country, take with me the ten thousand dollars I had saved, and turn it into a million."
"And came back broke!" Farland said.
"Nothing of the sort, Jim. I came back with a million."
"Great Scott! I suppose I'd better be on my way then. I ain't in the habit of having millionaires let me associate with 'em."
"You sit where you are, or I'll use violence!" Prale told him. "I suppose you are still on the force? Still fussing around down in the financial district watching for swindlers?"
"I left the force three years ago," Jim Farland replied. "Couldn't seem to get ahead. Too honest, maybe—or too ignorant. I'm in a sort of private detective business now—got an office up the street. Doing fairly well, too—lots of old friends give me work. If you have anything in my line——"
"If I have, you'll get a job," said Prale.
"Let me slip you a card," said Farland. "You never know when you may need a detective. So you came back with a million, eh?"
"And ran into a mess," Prale added.
"I can't imagine a man with a million running into much of a mess," Farland said.