Cathcart looked at him in blank astonishment.
“What do you mean?” he exclaimed. “These are my quarters!”
“They're nothing of the sort,” Trent answered. “They are the headquarters in this country of the Bekwando Company, with which you have nothing to do! Out you go!”
“Don't talk rubbish!” Cathcart said angrily. “I'm the authorised and properly appointed surveyor here!”
“You're a liar!” Trent answered, “you've no connection at all with the Company! you're dismissed, sir, for incompetence and cowardice, and if you're not off the premises in three minutes it'll be the worse for you!”
“You—you—haven't the power to do this,” Cathcart stuttered.
Trent laughed.
“We'll see about that,” he said. “I never had much faith in you, sir, and I guess you only got the job by a rig. But out you go now, sharp. If there's anything owing you, you can claim it in London.
“There are all my clothes—” Cathcart began.
Trent laid his hands upon his shoulders and threw him softly outside.