“You know I’m up to my neck in this job. Why in the world didn’t you hunt me up before this?”
The question was exasperating, and I could understand Archie’s stammer of wrath.
“Hunt you up? Hunt you up? What the deuce are you made of, to ask me such a question instead of wondering why I’m here now?”
Dredge bent his slow calm scrutiny on his friend’s quivering face; then he turned to me.
“What’s the matter?” he said simply.
“The matter?” shrieked Archie, his clenched fist hovering excitedly above the desk by which he stood; but Dredge, with unwonted quickness, caught the fist as it descended.
“Careful—I’ve got a Kallima in that jar there.” He pushed a chair forward, and added quietly: “Sit down.”
Archie, ignoring the gesture, towered pale and avenging in his place; and Dredge, after a moment, took the chair himself.
“The matter?” Archie reiterated with rising passion. “Are you so lost to all sense of decency and honour that you can put that question in good faith? Don’t you really know what’s the matter?”
Dredge smiled slowly. “There are so few things one really knows.”