“It was not necessary to hear even that one. You must know the talk they’re making. If notoriety is what you’re after—”
“Well, I’m not sorry to make a noise,” said Dredge, putting a match to his pipe.
Archie bounded in his chair. “There’s no easier way of doing it than to attack a man who can’t answer you!”
Dredge raised a sobering hand. “Hold on. Perhaps you and I don’t mean the same thing. Tell me first what’s in your mind.”
The request steadied Archie, who turned on Dredge a countenance really eloquent with filial indignation.
“It’s an odd question for you to ask; it makes me wonder what’s in yours. Not much thought of my father, at any rate, or you couldn’t stand in his place and use the chance he’s given you to push yourself at his expense.”
Dredge received this in silence, puffing slowly at his pipe.
“Is that the way it strikes you?” he asked at length.
“God! It’s the way it would strike most men.”
He turned to me. “You too?”