At that moment a stout, red-faced and hoary man puffed very authoritatively into the room.
"Vulto," he cried sharply. "Mr. Wrissell's here. Didn't they tell you?"
"Yes, Mr. Slosson," answered Vulto, suddenly losing all his sarcastic quality, and becoming a very junior partner. "I was just engaged with Mr."—(he paused to glance at his desk)—"Machin, whose singular letter we received this morning about an alleged option on the lease of the Chapel site at Piccadilly Circus—the Woldo estate, sir. You remember, sir?"
"This the man?" inquired Mr. Slosson, ex-president of the Law Society, with a jerk of the thumb.
Edward Henry said, "This is the man."
"Well," said Mr. Slosson, lifting his chin, and still puffing, "it would be extremely interesting to hear his story at any rate. I was just telling Mr. Wrissell about it. Come this way, sir. I've heard [157] some strange things in my time, but—" He stopped. "Please follow me, sir," he ordained.
"I'm dashed if I'll follow you!" Edward Henry desired to say, but he had not the courage to say it. And because he was angry with himself he determined to make matters as unpleasant as possible for the innocent Mr. Slosson, who was so used to bullying, and so well paid for bullying that really no blame could be apportioned to him. It would have been as reasonable to censure an ordinary person for breathing as to censure Mr. Slosson for bullying. And so Edward Henry was steeling himself: "I'll do him in the eye for that, even if it costs me every cent I've got." (A statement characterized by poetical license!)
III
Mr. Slosson, senior, heard Edward Henry's story, but seemingly did not find it quite as interesting as he had prophesied it would be. When Edward Henry had finished the old man drummed on an enormous table, and said:
"Yes, yes. And then?" His manner was far less bullying than in the room of Mr. Vulto.