"Quick, then!" cried Mary, and darted into the office in a moment. Walter dashed in after her.
When she got safe into cover she began to complain.
"This comes of concealment—we are always being driven into holes and corners."
"I rather like them with you," said the unabashed Walter.
It matters little what had passed out of sight between Bartley and Colonel Clifford, for what the young people heard now was quite enough to make what Sir Lucius O'Trigger calls a very pretty quarrel. Bartley, hitherto known to Mary as a very oily speaker, shouted at the top of his voice in arrogant defiance, "You're not a child, are you? You are old enough to read papers before you sign them."
The Colonel shouted in reply, "I am old, sir, but I am old in honor. I did not expect that any decent tradesman would slip a clause into a farm lease conveying the minerals below the surface to a farmer. It was a fraud, sir; but there's law for fraud. My lawyer shall be down on you to-morrow. Your chimneys disgorge smoke all over my fields. You shall disgorge your dishonest gains. I'll have you off my land, sir; I'll tear you out of the bowels of the earth. You are a sharper and a knave."
At this Bartley roared at him louder still, so that both the young people winced as they crouched in the recess of the window. "You foul-mouthed slanderer, I'll indict you for defamation, and give you twelve months in one of her Majesty's jails."
"No, you won't," roared the Colonel; "I know the law. My comments on your character are not written and signed like your knavish lease; it's a privileged communication—VILLAIN! there are no witnesses—SHARPER! By Jupiter, there are, though!"
He had caught sight of a male figure just visible at the side of the window.
"Who is it? MY SON!"