"You! What has become of Butler?"
"I had good substantial reasons for changing my name—there was money in it, you understand."
"I'd like to change my own name on them terms. And now, Tom Butler, what are you going to do for me?"
Mr. Browning's face hardened. He felt no sympathy for the poor wretch with whom he had once been on terms of intimacy. He felt ashamed to think that they had ever been comrades, and he resented the tone of familiarity with which this outcast addressed him—a reputable citizen, a wealthy capitalist, a man whose name had been more than once mentioned in connection with the mayor's office.
"I'll tell you what I ought to do," he said, harshly.
"Well?"
"I ought to call a policeman, and give you in charge for entering my house as a burglar."
"You'd better not do that," he said without betraying alarm.
"Why not? Why should I not treat you like any other burglar?"
"Because—but I want to ask you a question."