I hate to be rude, and I hate just as much to throw away good money.

But I can't take good money for bad work, Mr.Lyne, and if you will be advised by me, you will drop this stupid scheme for vengeance which your hurt vanity has suggested--it is the clumsiest kind of frame up that was ever invented--and also you will go and apologise to the young lady, whom, I have no doubt, you have grossly insulted." He beckoned to his Chinese satellite and walked leisurely to the door.
Incoherent with rage, shaking in every limb with a weak man's sense of his own impotence, Lyne watched him until the door was half-closed, then, springing forward with a strangled cry, he wrenched the door open and leapt at the detective.
Two hands gripped his arm and lifting him bodily back into the room, pushed him down into a chair.

A not unkindly face blinked down at him, a face relieved from utter solemnity by the tiny laughter lines about the eyes.
"Mr.Lyne," said the mocking voice of Tarling, "you are setting an awful example to the criminal classes.

It is a good job your convict friend is in gaol." Without another word he left the room..