“Vaniman, go out and tell that old hoot owl to move on!  I’m in a dangerous frame of mind to-day.”  Britt’s lips were pulled tightly against his yellow teeth.

The Prophet’s next deliverance was more concretely to the point—­indicating that the exhorter was not so much wrapped up in religion that he had no ear out for the political news current in Egypt that day, “’Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall.’”

There was a fireplace in the office and Britt leaped to it and grabbed a poker.  The cashier was moved to interfere, urged by two compelling motives.  He wanted to get away from his own dangerous situation of the moment in that office—­and he wanted to protect the old man outside from assault.  “I’ll attend to him, sir!” But he halted at the door and turned.  “Mr. Britt, our talk has driven an important matter from my mind.  The men who bellow at me through the wicket have considerable to say about our hoarding specie.  It makes me uneasy to have that sort of gossip going the rounds.”

“We’ll have the money out of here in a short time, Vaniman, as I have told you.  That broker says that foreign money is going lower yet—­and seeing that we’ve taken all this trouble to get the hard cash ready for the deal, we may as well make the clean-up as big as we can.”

“Don’t you think we’d better hire a couple of good men with rifles and put ’em in the bank nights, sir?”

President Britt declared with scorn that the expense was not necessary, that putting guards in the bank would only start more talk, and that it also would be essential to hire old Ike Jones to sit in front of the vault and play all night on his trombone to keep awake any two men picked from Egypt.  While Britt was expressing his opinion of inefficiency and expense, the Prophet was furnishing this obbligato outside, “’He that by usury and unjust gain increaseth his substance, he shall gather it for him that will pity the poor.’”

Vaniman closed the door on Britt’s objurgations.

The young man did not find it necessary to prevail upon the Prophet to give over his discourse.  As soon as the emissary appeared Elias folded his ample umbrella, tucked it under his arm, gave Vaniman a friendly greeting, and winked at him.  The twilight dimmed the seamed face and the young man wondered whether he had been mistaken about the sly suggestiveness of that wink.

“Joseph, how doth Pharaoh rest on his throne?  Doth he sit easy?”

Always in their brief but good-natured interviews the evangelist called the young man “Joseph.”  Elias took Vaniman’s arm and walked along with him.

“I’m afraid, Prophet Elias, that you’ll provoke Mr. Britt too far.  Take my advice.  Keep away from him for a time.”

“’There be three things which are too wonderful for me, yeah, four which I know not:  the way of an eagle in the air, the way of a serpent upon a rock, the way of a ship in the midst of the sea, and the way of a man with a maid,’” said the Prophet, placidly.  “Furthermore, ’The proud have digged pits for me.’  Joseph, the pitfalls encompass thee.”