I'm not so sure.

I'm out to break him properly this time, and I am not going to rush in until I know the ropes." Slate emptied a glass of wine and leaned forward.
"John," he said, relapsing once more into the familiarity of their early college days, "you couldn't have set me a job more to my heart than to have me help in brewing mischief for Peter Phipps.

I'm your man, body and soul--you know that.

But you've been a good friend to me--almost the only one I ever had--and I've got to put this up to you.

Peter Phipps is as clever as the devil.