"I see." Stoughton nodded, plainly perplexed. "Does that mean you've left—"
"Hauk and Flaspoller—yes."
"That's poor Charlie Forshay's firm, isn't it?"
"Yes."
"They were caught pretty hard in Pittsburgh & New Orleans," said Stoughton meditatively. "Yes, I remember. Were you caught too?"
"I was."
"What were you getting there?"
"Of course I don't expect to get what I was making there—not just at present," said Bojo magnanimously. "I was getting as much as one hundred and twenty-five a week at the end."
"No," said Stoughton, without the flicker of a smile, "you can't expect that." The social affability had faded. Gradually he had withdrawn into a quiet defensive attitude, tinged with curiosity. "By the way, you don't mind my asking a discreet question? Why don't you try Drake?"