“If you sell my stuff, I’ll knock the head off you!” shouted Duncan.
“Don’t yell like that in this room,” remonstrated Lynch. “I can’t have it, Ditson.”
“But look at that cursed Shylock!” panted Dunc, pointing at Mel. “He’d steal coppers off a dead man’s eyes.”
“You have no right to say that,” complained Dagett. “Simply because I do business in a businesslike fashion you insult me. I suppose you think I ought to let you have the money for nothing. I suppose you think I ought to give it to you. Mike has paid me what he owes me.”
“Has he?” exclaimed Ditson, in surprise. “Why, I didn’t know——”
“Sit down, both of you fellows,” directed Lynch. “Sit down, I say. That’s right, Dagett, back yourself into that chair. Now, look here, Dunc, how much do you owe Mel?”
“I agreed to pay him ten dollars this week.”
“How much is the full amount that you owe him?”
“Forty-five dollars.”
“What security has he?”