"You've got to prove it to me." "What makes you say I'm not human?" "Well, look in the glass and see for yourself," said Mrs. Molloy offensively. The pacific Mr. Molloy felt it time to call the meeting to order once more. "Now, now, now! All this isn't getting us anywheres. Let's stick to business. Where do you get that sixty-forty stuff, Chimp?" "I'll tell you where I get it. I'm going into this thing as a favour, aren't I? There's no need for me to sit in at this game at all, is there? I've got a good, flourishing, respectable business of my own, haven't I? A business that's on the level. Well, then." Dolly sniffed. Her husband's soothing intervention had failed signally to diminish her animosity. "I don't know what your idea was in starting that Healthward Ho joint," she said, "but I'll bet my diamond sunburst it isn't on the level." "Certainly it's on the level. A man with brains can always make a good living without descending to anything low and crooked. That's why I say that if I go into this thing it will simply be because I want to do a favour to two old friends." "Old what?" "Friends was what I said," repeated Mr. Twist. "If you don't like my terms, say so and we'll call the deal off. It'll be all right by me. I'll simply get along back to Healthward Ho and go on running my good, flourishing, respectable business. Come to think of it, I'm not any too solid on this thing, anyway. I was walking in my garden this morning and a magpie come up to me as close as that." Mrs. Molloy expressed the view that this was tough on the magpie, but wanted to know what the bird's misfortune in finding itself so close to Mr. Twist that it could not avoid taking a good, square look at him had to do with the case. "Well, I'm superstitious, same as everyone else. I saw the new moon through the glass, what's more." "Oh, stop stringing the beads and talk sense," said Dolly wearily. "I'm talking sense all right. Sixty per cent. or I don't come in. You wouldn't have asked me to come in if you could have done without me. Think I don't know that? Sixty's moderate. I'm doing all the hard work, aren't I?" "Hard work?" Dolly laughed bitterly. "Where do you get the idea it's going to be hard work? Everybody'll be out of the house on the night of this concert thing they're having down in the village, there'll be a window left open, and you'll just walk in and pack up the stuff. If that's hard, what's easy? We're simply handing you slathers of money for practically doing nothing." "Sixty," said Mr. Twist. "And that's my last word." "But, Chimpie ..." pleaded Mr. Molloy. "Sixty." "Have a heart!" "Sixty." "It isn't as though ..." "Sixty." Dolly threw up her hands despairingly. "Oh, give it him," she said. "He won't be happy if you don't. If a guy's middle name is Shylock, where's the use wasting time trying to do anything about it?" III