There was a brief period of silence, finally broken by Patsy.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” he asked. “Get busy. Do something.”
“I’m doing it.”
“Doing what?”
“Watching you.”
“You’ll not let me go, then?[Pg 23]”
“Not so you’ll notice it.”
“But we can’t remain sitting here like two catsup bottles on a shelf,” growled Patsy, with affected resentment. “Let’s come to some kind of an understanding. What are you going to do about it?”
“I haven’t decided,” said Draper, constantly alert. “You’re a thief, are you?”
“That’s what,” Patsy insisted. “I admit it, but it’s only because I’m out of a job. I’m a high-grade thief, too, as you can see by my looks.”