"And the other reason was I warned you to keep over the line."
"Why, Bub, you are a bright boy!"
"It ain't me, Bucky," Frawley answered, with a shake of his head; "it's the all-fired government that's after you."
"Good—first rate—then we'll have a little excitement!"
"You'll have plenty of that, Bucky!"
"Maybe, Bub, maybe. Well, I made a neat job of it, didn't I?"
"You did," admitted Frawley with an appreciative nod. "But you were wrong—you were wrong—you should have kept off. The Canadian Government ain't like your bloomin' democracy. It don't forgive—it don't forget. Tack that up, Bucky. It's a principle we've got at stake with you!"
"Don't I know it?" cried Greenfield, striking the table. "What else do you think I did it for?"
Frawley gazed at him, then said slowly: "I told them it was a personal matter."
"Sure it was! Do you think I could keep out after you served notice on me? D—— your English pride and your English justice! I'm a good enough Yank to see if your dinky police is such an all-fired cute little bunch of wonder-workers as you say! Bub—you think you're going to get Mr. Greenfield—don't you?"