"Oh, not that,—hardly that——"
"Yes, it's imminent." Crane thought best to tell him this. "They—they say they've got the goods on you, Mac."
"What—what do you mean by that?"
"Well," Crane couldn't bring himself to tell of the poison bottle, "well, my boy, they say that you and Blair quarreled."
"We did."
"Over the sketches for the prizes?"
"Yes, over those, and over other matters."
"When was this?"
"We'd been scrapping off and on for some time. Nothing very serious. But,—well, when Gilbert implied that I had used his ideas, I—I got mad."
"And saw red?"