Forge who had turned towards the cabinet wheeled round and looked more like a hawk than ever as he pounced on the stout man. "What do you know?" and he clawed Tidman's plump shoulders.
"Let me go confound you," blustered the Major, "what do you mean by assaulting a gentleman"--
"A gentleman." Forge suddenly released the Major and laughed softly, "does Benjamin Tidman, old Farmer Tidman's son call himself so. Why I remember you--"
"Yes I know you do, and so does that infernal Pewsey cat."
Forge suddenly became attentive. "Miss Pewsey if you please. She is my friend. I may--" Forge halted and swallowed something. "I may even marry her some day."
"What," shouted Tidman backing to the wall, "that old--old--"
"Gently my good Benjamin, gently."
"But--but you're not a marrying man."
"We never know what we are till we die," said Forge turning again towards the black cabinet, "but you needn't mention what I have said. If you do," Forge snarled like an angry cat and shot one glance from his gray eyes that made Tidman shiver: then he resumed his gentle tone. "About this fan. I'll make a bargain with you."
"What's that?" asked the Major avariciously.