"He's selling Midwell Tractions: you know that?" he mimicked savagely. "I'll break him, Merville! Smash him! The cur, the crafty cur!"
He gained the upper hand of his tumultuous rage after a while.
"That doesn't matter. But I sent him a cheque and a transfer—one minute!"
He seized the telephone and shouted a number.
"Yes, Steppe. Has a cheque been passed through payable to Ronald Morelle—I'll give you the number if you wait."
He jerked out a drawer, found the stub of a cheque book and turned the counterfoil.
"There? March seventeenth. Cheque number L.V. 971842."
He waited at the telephone, scowling absentmindedly at the doctor.
"Huh? It hasn't been presented—all right."
He smashed the receiver down on the hook.