"Well, you're asking me to help your sheet," the ex-surgeon reminded him.
"Because Dr. L. André Surtaine is the Neverfail Company."
"Oh," said the other. "And I suppose Dr. L. André Surtaine is the 'Clarion,' also. Well, I don't choose to be associated with that honorable and high-minded polecat, thank you."
"Don't be too sure about the 'Clarion.' Harrington Surtaine isn't his father."
"The same rotten breed."
"Plus another strain. Where it comes from I don't know, but there's something in the boy that may work out to big ends."
Dr. Miles Elliot was an abrupt sort of person, as men of independent lives and thought are prone to be. "Look here, Ellis," he said: "are you trying to be honest, yourself? Now, don't answer till you've counted three."
"One—two—three," said McGuire Ellis solemnly. "I'm honestly trying to put the 'Clarion' on the level. That's what you really want to know, I suppose."
"Against all the weight of influence of Dr. Surtaine?"
"Bless you; he doesn't half realize he's a crook. Thinks he's a pretty fine sort of chap. The worst of it is, he is, too, in some ways."