"I don't know why you insulted me, but don't do it again!" Prale said. "I ought to settle with you for what you've said already."
The house detective, who had heard, stepped forward again, but Sidney Prale swung across the street and went on his way.
He walked rapidly for a dozen blocks or more, paying no attention to where he was going, until his anger began to subside.
"Why, the raving maniac!" he gasped, once or twice.
He didn't pretend to guess what it meant. Shepley had seemed to be friendly enough when they had separated aboard ship. What could have happened to make the man change his mind and attitude?
"Must be some mistake!" Prale told himself. "If there is any more of this, I'll have to get to the bottom of it!"
He reached Madison Square, and sat down on a bench to smoke and regain his composure. He knew that he had a terrible temper, and that it had to be controlled. A temper that flashed was all right at times in the jungles of Honduras, but it was not the proper thing to exhibit in the heart of New York City. It might get him into serious trouble with somebody.
He finished his cigar, listened to the striking chimes, and lighted another smoke. A pedestrian stopped beside him.
"Old Sid Prale, or I'm a liar!" he cried.
Prale looked up, and then sprang to his feet.
"Jim Farland, the sleuth!" he cried in answer. "Old Jim, the holy terror to evildoers. Now I am glad that I'm home!"
"Yesterday. Sit down. Have a cigar. You're the first old friend I've met!"
Detective Jim Farland sat down and lighted the cigar. "You've been gone some time," he said.
"I did. I made my decision one night and sailed the night following," said Prale.
"I always wondered why you went, and what became of you. Had a good job with old Griffin, didn't you?"
"The job was all right, Jim. But there was a girl----"
"And she threw me over for a fellow who had some money. That made me huffy, of course. I swore I'd shake the dust of New York from my shoes, go to some foreign country, take with me the ten thousand dollars I had saved, and turn it into a million."
"Nothing of the sort, Jim. I came back with a million."
"Great Scott! I suppose I'd better be on my way then. I ain't in the habit of having millionaires let me associate with 'em."