Here Frederik, who had watched the scene with much amusement at first, came forward through the increasing gloom. He was getting tired of the childish bickering.
"Well, well, well, I'm disgusted," he said, "when I see such heartlessness! He was putty in all your hands."
"Oh, you can defend his memory. You got the money!" cried Mrs. Batholommey, with asperity. "He liked flattery and you gave him what he wanted and you gave him plenty of it."
"Why not?" retorted Frederik calmly, getting a cigarette out of his case. "The rest of you were at the same thing—yes?"
He struck a match and lighted his cigarette as he continued in a disagreeable tone:
"And I had the pleasure of watching him hand out the money that belonged to me—to me," he repeated. "My money! What business had he to be generous with my money?"
Still talking, Frederik sat down at the desk.
"If he'd lived much longer, I'd have been a pauper. It's a lucky thing for me he di——"
Frederik had the grace to leave the word unfinished.
Mr. Batholommey broke the slight pause.