“Say, Bagley,” he cried, “what does this mean? Is this any of your doing?”
The English secretary gave his employer's son a haughty stare, and then, without deigning to reply or even to glance at the newspaper, continued his instructions to the servant:
“Here, Jorkins, get stamps for all these letters and see they are mailed at once. They are very important.”
“Very good, sir.”
The man took the letters and disappeared, while Jefferson, impatient, repeated his question:
“My doing?” sneered Mr. Bagley. “Really, Jefferson, you go too far! Do you suppose for one instant that I would condescend to trouble myself with your affairs?”
Jefferson was in no mood to put up with insolence from anyone, especially from a man whom he heartily despised, so advancing menacingly he thundered:
“I mean—were you, in the discharge of your menial-like duties, instructed by my father to send that paragraph to the newspapers regarding my alleged betrothal to Miss Roberts? Yes or No?”
The man winced and made a step backward. There was a gleam in the Ryder eye which he knew by experience boded no good.
“Really, Jefferson,” he said in a more conciliatory tone, “I know absolutely nothing about the paragraph. This is the first I hear of it. Why not ask your father?”