“You insult me by reading such trash,” said Mr Horner, all the more irritated because he knew that Roy had truth on his side, and that he had often spoken to Frithiof abusively. “But if you like to keep this thief in your employ—”
“Excuse me, but I can not let that expression pass,” said Mr. Boniface. “No one having the slightest knowledge of Frithiof Falck could believe him guilty of dishonesty.”
“Well, then, this lunatic with a mania for taking money that belongs to other people—this son of a bankrupt, this designing foreigner—if you insist on keeping him I withdraw my capital and retire. I am aware that it is a particularly inconvenient time to withdraw money from the business, but that is your affair. ‘As you have brewed so you must drink.’”
“It may put me to some slight inconvenience,” said Mr. Boniface. “But as far as I am concerned I shall gladly submit to that rather than go against my conscience with regard to Falck. What do you say, Roy?”
“I am quite at one with you, father,” replied Roy, with a keen sense of enjoyment in the thought of so quietly baffling James Horner’s malicious schemes.
“This designing fellow has made you both his dupes,” said Mr. Horner furiously. “Someday you’ll repent of this and see that I was right.”
No one replied, and, with an exclamation of impatient disgust, James Horner took up his hat and left the room, effectually checkmated. Frithiof, happening to glance up from his desk as the angry man strode through the shop, received so furious a glance that he at once realized what must have passed in the private room. It was not, however, until closing time that he could speak alone with Roy, but the moment they were out in the street he turned to him with an eager question.
“What happened to Mr. Horner to-day?”
“He heard a discourse on the Norwegian character which happened to be in the Daily News, by good luck,” said Roy, smiling. “By-the-by, it will amuse you, take it home.”
And, drawing the folded paper from his coat-pocket, he handed it to Frithiof.