Smith shut the door quickly. "Must you bellow like that? He was trying to help you."
I knew that, but I was mad. "I don't want any help. I could have made it down here under my own power, and you know it."
Smith sat down. "These your cigarettes? Thanks." He lit his own and puffed furiously. "I don't think you can reasonably expect to be let alone, Peter. After all, you're a very valuable—"
"—piece of property. Sure. In the meantime I don't want anyone fooling around me."
He smoked in silence, thinking. That meant trouble.
"Well?"
"Well, what?"
He reached for the ashtray. "Ready to talk now?"
"Sure," I said. "Talk or listen?"
"A little of both."