‘No,’ said Mr. Gaunt; ‘I regret to say—-at forty. I have just received further instructions by telegraph.’
He waved the telegram in the air.
Simon Lock’s face grew ugly, and he spoke with ominous coldness.
‘Someone seems disposed to make fun of me, Mr. Gaunt,’ he said. ‘I don’t know who it is, but I shall find out; and when I do find out, there will be trouble for that someone. I’ll let this cursed city know that Simon Lock is not to be trifled with.’
‘Good-day,’ said Mr. Gaunt calmly.
Simon Lock went out furious. On the pavement outside he met the office-boy who had brought in the telegram to Mr. Gaunt.
‘Where are you going to, my boy?’ asked Simon Lock kindly.