"I—I should think you'd be so out of patience with me——" he began mournfully.
"I am, but I'm not going to drop the job on that account," Anthony said grimly. "Shed those clothes, David."
"I'll shed 'em when you go out," David said monotonously. "I—I'd rather undress alone."
Johnson Boller's plump hands were on his plump hips and he surveyed his old friend darkly.
"Are you actually going to keep the youngster here against his will?" he demanded.
"I am!" snapped Anthony Fry.
Johnson Boller swallowed his wondering rage.
"I hope you get all that's coming to you!" he said. "I hope he sues you for a million dollars and collects every penny of it!"
And he turned and thumped out of David's chamber, down the corridor, and into the living-room, across the living-room, and into his own bedchamber—and there for a little he sat on the edge of the bed and swore aloud.
Presently he heard Anthony come through from David's room, muttering to himself; he heard the switch snap, and the streak of light under his door vanished.