"And honest?" the little man repeated, seizing a knee in either hand and looking him stubbornly in countenance.
With unfeigned astonishment, Bofinger shot to his feet, glared down a moment at the cynical, unrelenting scrutiny; then, with a bob of his head, wheeled, returned to his desk and said softly as he took up his paper:
"Kindly close the door—after you!"
There was a moment's interval, while each watched the other, the lawyer fearing the success of his manoeuver, the client weighing its sincerity as he balanced on his chair and blinked in indecision. All at once he jerked upright, flung aside his shock of hair and blurted:
"Mr. Bofinger—"
"No, sir, I beg you," the lawyer cut in, elevating two fingers. "Such questions cannot be addressed to reputable members of my profession—"
"I want to say—"
"No sir, it is useless. If I don't produce in you the necessary impression of confidence, then there ain't no use in prolonging—there ain't no use, I say—"
"Say, I take that back," the other interrupted decisively.