“You remember my calling here the other day to see my old home?”
“I remember you before that—when you were in Sing Sing.”
He turned away to light the gas, and Mr. Molloy was glad of the interval for thought afforded by this action.
“Sing Sing?”
“Yes.”
“You were never there.”
“I went there to see a show, in which you took an important part. I forget what your number was.”
“And what of it?”
“Eh?”
Mr. Molloy drew himself up with considerable dignity.