T. Tembarom’s grin was no longer faint, but spread itself. Palliser’s first impression was that he had “fetched” him. But when he answered, though the very crudeness of his words seemed merely the result of his betrayal into utter tactlessness by soothed vanity, there was something--a shade of something--not entirely satisfactory in his face and nasal twang. “Well, I guess,” he said, “New York _did_ teach a fellow not to buy a gold brick off every con man that came along.” Palliser was guilty of a mere ghost of a start. Was there something in it, or was he only the gross, blundering fool he had trusted to his being? He stared at him a moment, and saw that there _was_ something under the words and behind his professedly flattered grin--something which must be treated with a high hand. “What do you mean?” he exclaimed haughtily. “I don’t like your tone. Do you take _me_ for what you call a ’con man’?” “Good Lord, no!” answered Tembarom; and he looked straight at Palliser and spoke slowly. “You’re a gentleman, and you’re paying me a visit. You could no more try on a game to do me in my own house than--well, than I could _tell_ you if I’d got on to you if I saw you doing it. You’re a gentleman.” Palliser glared back into his infuriatingly candid eyes. He was a far cry from being a dullard himself; he was sharp enough to “catch on” to the revelation that the situation was not what he had thought it, the type was more complex than he had dreamed. The chap had been playing a part; he had absolutely been “jollying him along,” after the New York fashion. He became pale with humiliated rage, though he knew his only defense was to control himself and profess not to see through the trick. Until he could use his big lever, he added to himself. “Oh, I see,” he commented acridly. “I suppose you don’t realize that your figures of speech are unfortunate.” “That comes of New York streets, too,” Tembarom answered with deliberation. “But you can’t live as I’ve lived and be dead easy--not _dead_ easy.” Palliser had left his chair, and stood in contemptuous silence. “You know how a fellow hates to be thought _dead_ easy”--Tembarom actually went to the insolent length of saying the words with a touch of cheerful confidingness--“when he’s _not_. And I’m not. Have another drink.”