"What took you so long? You're after me, of course?"
"Am I?" Frawley answered, looking at him steadily. Greenfield, with a twitch of his shoulders, returned to his question:
"What took you so long? Didn't you guess I'd come direct?"
"What do you say to dining on me?" said Greenfield with a malicious smile. "I owe you that. I clipped your vacation pretty short. Besides--guess you know it yourself--you can't touch me here. Why not talk things over frankly? Say, Bub, shall it be on me?"
A waiter sidled up and took the order that Greenfield gave without hesitation.
"You see, even the dinner was ready for you," he said with a wink; "see how you like it." With a gesture of impatience he pushed aside the menu, squared his arms on the table, and looked suddenly at his pursuer with the deviltry of a schoolboy glistening in his eyes. "Well, Bub, I went into your all-fired Canady!"
"Well," said Greenfield, drawing lines with his knife-point on the nap, "one reason was I wanted to see if Her Majesty's shop has such an all-fired long arm--"
"And the other reason was I warned you to keep over the line."
"It ain't me, Bucky," Frawley answered, with a shake of his head; "it's the all-fired government that's after you."
"Good--first rate--then we'll have a little excitement!"
"Maybe, Bub, maybe. Well, I made a neat job of it, didn't I?"
"You did," admitted Frawley with an appreciative nod. "But you were wrong--you were wrong--you should have kept off. The Canadian Government ain't like your bloomin' democracy. It don't forgive--it don't forget. Tack that up, Bucky. It's a principle we've got at stake with you!"
"Don't I know it?" cried Greenfield, striking the table. "What else do you think I did it for?"
Frawley gazed at him, then said slowly: "I told them it was a personal matter."
"Sure it was! Do you think I could keep out after you served notice on me? D---- your English pride and your English justice! I'm a good enough Yank to see if your dinky police is such an all-fired cute little bunch of wonder-workers as you say! Bub--you think you're going to get Mr. Greenfield--don't you?"
"Sticking to me!" cried Greenfield with a roar of disgust. "Why, you unimaginative, lumbering, beef-eating Canuck, you can't get me that way! Why in tarnation didn't you strike plump for here--instead of rubbin' yourself down the whole coast of South Ameriky?"