"So far as that goes, bankruptcy is the cheapest way to pay one's debts."
His client uttered an ejaculation of disgust. Then suddenly the red deepened in his cheeks and he clenched his white hand until the thin blue veins stood out like cords.
"Curse him!" he cried in a voice shaken by anger. "Curse him now and hereafter! Why did I ever take advantage of his pretended generosity? He meant to ruin me! Why was I ever born with tastes that I could not afford to gratify? Why must I surround myself with music and flowers and marbles? He saw his chance, stimulated my extravagance, seduced my intellect, and now he casts me into the street a beggar! How I hate him! I believe I could kill him!"
Sir Richard turned quickly. The door had opened to admit the silent, deferential figure of Joyce, the butler.
"Pardon me, Sir Richard. A clerk from Mr. Flynt's office, sir, with a package. Shall I let him in?"
Mortmain still stood with his fist trembling in mid-air, and it was a moment before he regained sufficient control of himself to reply:
"Yes, yes; let him in."
The butler nodded to some one just behind him, and a nondescript, undersized man cringingly entered the room and stood hesitatingly by the threshold.
"Have you the papers, Flaggs?" inquired Flynt.
"Here, sir," replied the other, drawing forth a bundle tied with red tape and handing it to his employer.