"Say, listen!" said Mr. Waddington.
"Sir?" said the policeman, coming out of his reverie with a start.
"Suppose," said Mr. Waddington, "suppose, just for the sake of argument, that a wicked person wanted a crook to do a horrible, nefarious job for him, would he have to pay him?"
"Undoubtedly, sir. These men are very mercenary."
"Pay him much?"
"I imagine a few hundred dollars. It would depend on the magnitude of the crime contemplated, no doubt."
"A few hundred dollars!"
"Two, perhaps, or three."
Silence fell once more. Officer Garroway resumed his inspection of the ceiling. What he wanted was something signifying the aspect of the streets of New York, and he had used "sordid" in line two. "Scabrous!" That was the word. He was rolling it over his tongue when he became aware that his companion was addressing him.
"I beg your pardon, sir?"