"You don't have to beg anybody's pardon," Frey said. "All you have to do is answer a few questions. If you don't mind we won't waste time out here in the hall. We'll go into your room and talk."
"I presume you are thieves?" Lasseroe said. He wasn't excited.
"No, we ain't thieves and we don't like funny boys," Mogin said.
Lasseroe walked into the apartment and Frey and Mogin followed.
"Now, gentlemen?"
"My name is Frey. This is my assistant, Mr. Mogin."
Lasseroe ignored Mogin. He said, "What do you want with me?"
Frey began to talk. He didn't look at Lasseroe. He looked out the window and talked slowly, taking his time. He said, "You got a nice business, Mr. Lasseroe. You are an expert appraiser of art, and you take good fees from various dealers. Sometimes you hit healthy money. You check up on a Rembrandt and you give your okay to a buyer and the dealer gives you a sweet kick-back. It is all very legitimate and lucrative—"
"What are you, a census taker?" Lasseroe said.
"Quiet," Mogin toned.