"You were at the bottom of his disappearance!"
"I give you my word that I was not."
"You know whether he is dead or alive!"
"I do not, Ringrose."
"Then tell me where you saw him last!"
"You sicken me," cried Lowndes, losing his temper suddenly. "I told you the whole story six months ago, and now you want me to tell it you again so that you may challenge every point. I'll answer no more of your insolent questions, and I'll tell the commissionaire to mark you down and never to admit you again. You hold in your hand fifty shares in this Company. Next week they will be worth a hundred pounds—next month perhaps a thousand—next year very likely five. Take them for your mother's sake, if not for your own, and for God's sake let me never see your face again!"
"From the man who may be at the bottom of our disgrace? No, thank you—not until you tell me what you did with my father—you and Scrafton between you!"
"I have already answered you."
"Then so much for your fifty shares."
The long envelope spun into the fire. Lowndes darted to his desk, caught the electric bell that dangled over it, and pressed the button. Harry stalked to the door, turned round, and faced him for the last time.