Suddenly Elgin’s face relaxed from its rather tense, searching expression, and he laughed harshly.
“And so you’re sorry?” he sneered. “That puts you right, I suppose! Without a shred of evidence, you accuse a man of stealing. For three years you blackguard him every chance you get, and then, when you find out the truth, when you wake up to the fact that you’ve been all kinds of a blackguard, all you can do is to come around whining about being sorry. Bah!”
Lefty drew his breath sharply, his self-control strained almost to the breaking point.
“What more can I do?” he demanded.
Elgin’s lips curled. “Oh, nothing—nothing,” he sneered. “It’s what you should have done before that gets me. Anybody but a fool would have waited till he could prove it before he called a man a thief. But no; you had to jump in and show how smart you were without giving a thought to the damage you might be doing to a person’s character.”
Lefty felt that argument would be futile. Besides, he knew that if he stayed any longer he would most certainly blow up and say something he might afterward regret.
“I’ve told you I’m sorry, and I am,” he repeated briefly. “I’ll write to Bob Ferris to-night, and put him straight about the matter. I fail to see what more there is to do.”
Without further words, he turned abruptly to leave the room. He had almost reached the door when Elgin’s sneering voice broke the silence:
“If you think this squares everything between us, you’ve got another guess coming. I haven’t forgotten how you’ve slandered me, and I never will, even if you should crawl like this every day for the rest of the year.”
Lefty whirled, his eyes blazing. “I don’t give a rip what you remember or forget!” he retorted sharply. “I apologized because I had to save my self-respect. If you imagine I want to have anything more to do with you than before, get rid of the notion right away. I don’t like you or your methods. You may not be guilty of stealing, but there are some other things fully as rotten that you have done.”