Once more John found himself puzzling over the way this man's mind worked. By pot he presumably meant the coffee pot standing on the tray and why the contents of this should appear to him in the light of a soporific was more than John could understand.
"Say, listen," said Mr. Twist. "You go and hang around outside the door, Soapy."
"Why?" inquired Mr. Molloy, and it seemed to John that he spoke coldly.
"So's to see nobody comes along, of course."
"Yeah?" said Mr. Molloy, and his voice was now unmistakably dry. "And you'll come out in a minute and tell me you're all broke up about it but he hadn't got the ticket on him after all."
"You don't think...?"
"Yes, I do think."
"If you can't trust me that far...."
"Chimpie," said Mr. Molloy, "I wouldn't trust you as far as a snail could make in three jumps. I wouldn't believe you not even if I knew you were speaking the truth."
"Oh, well if that's how you feel..." said Mr. Twist, injured. Mr. Molloy, still speaking in that unfriendly voice, replied that that was precisely how he did feel. And there was silence for a space.