“What are you doing to him?” Phil asked with a sudden suspicion.
“Oh, just having a little fun! I put two big white drunks in there with him—half-fighting drunks, you know—and told them to work on his teeth and manicure his face a little to initiate him into the ranks of the common people, so to speak!”
Again he laughed.
Phil, listening at the keyhole, held up his hand:
“Hush, they’re talking——”
He could hear Ben Cameron’s voice in the softest drawl:
“Say it again.”
“Please, Marster!”
“Now both together, and a little louder!”
“Please, Marster,” came the united chorus.