"Licked," he declared, at length: "that's what you are, Lanyard, licked to a standstill. Your nature started the job and I finished it. You'd ought to 've known better than to try to buck a combination like that."
"I'm sorry," Lanyard replied, looking up with an apologetic smile—"but if it isn't too much to ask you to be more plain-spoken . . ."
"All I mean is—there's no cure for a crook. If you were born crooked, you'll die a crook, no matter how hard you struggle. It's your nature, and it's no use any man's trying to lick his nature: you're licked before you start. God knows I don't blame you for not wanting to believe that, on account of that dame you were stuck on—"
"By your leave, monsieur!" Lanyard sharply insisted—"we will not discuss that phase of my affairs."
"Just as you like. No offense intended, none, far's I'm concerned, taken." Morphew had suddenly shifted to an amazingly conciliatory line. "I bear you no ill will, Lanyard, in spite of all you've done to sprain my patience. Why! that battle you put up against your nature and me was a classic, and a man can't help but admire you for it, even if he did know all along you never had a chance. But now you know it, too, you're too sensible to keep on kicking against the pricks. Your motto from now on is 'Make the best of it'—and the best you can make of it, if you put your back into the business, is the life of Reilly for a man who knows how to live like you do."
"You advise me, then—?"
"I leave it to your good sense, seeing where you stand today, what's the only sensible way for you to go."
In a subdued voice, with thoughtful gaze constant to Morphew's, Lanyard repeated: "Where I stand today!"
"Well: where do you? You've got to live somehow, and you only know one way to make a decent living. It's no good your pulling out for Paris or London again. They read the papers over there, too—they'll never let the Lone Wolf land from any steamer."
"But if they believe me drowned in the Bahamas—"