“Oh, that is interesting. And where are my billions?”
“I have them. They are mine. I am a very wealthy man, Wondergood.”
I moved my cigar to the other corner of my mouth and asked:
“And you are ready, of course, to give me a helping hand? You are a contemptible scoundrel, Thomas Magnus.”
“If that’s what you call me—yes. Something on that order.”
“And a liar!”
“Perhaps. In general, dear Wondergood, it is very necessary for you to change your outlook on life and man. You are too much of an idealist.”
“And you”—I rose from my chair—“for you it is necessary to change your fellow conversationalist. Permit me to bid you good-by and to send a police commissary in my place.”
Magnus laughed.
“Nonsense, Wondergood! Everything has been done within the law. You, yourself, have handed over everything to me. This will surprise no one...with your love for humanity. Of course, you can proclaim yourself insane. You understand?—and then, perhaps, I may get to the penitentiary. But you—you will land in an insane asylum. You would hardly like that, dear friend. Police! Well, go on talking. It will relieve the first effects of the blow.”