“Well?” said he. “Out with it, Crane; what’s it all about?”
“You,” said Enoch grimly.
Lamont’s smile broadened under his trim, gray mustache.
“Must be devilish important for you to get into the state you’re in,” he laughed, with a wink to Van Worden that suggested Enoch was drunk.
Enoch’s eyes blazed.
“I’ll have you know, sir,” he declared tensely, “that it was important enough to bring me here. I’ll have you know, sir, that I came here to-night with the express purpose of seeing you”—he turned to Van Worden—“over a matter which does not concern you, Mr. Van Worden. I wish to express to you personally my apology for disturbing you.”
“Oh! well—er—that’s all right,” stammered Van Worden. “Of course if you want to see Lamont in private——”
“In private!” cried Lamont, his black eyes flashing. “What the devil have you got to tell me in private, I’d like to know? I decline to be bullied by you, sir, into anything like a conversation in private. No conversations in private for me with a man in your state of mind, thank you, without the presence of a witness. Your age, Crane, prevents me from saying more. What right have you got to disturb us, I’d like to know? Here we are, two gentlemen—dining alone, at the club, and you have the arrogance, the impudence to disturb our dinner!—to make a scene! You are extraordinary,” he cried with a forced laugh. “Conversation in private—eh? I’ll be damned if I will. What have you got to say, anyway?”
“This,” said Enoch, with slow determination, “that I warn you now, Lamont, it will be to your advantage to grant me an interview, now, at once, over there in the card-room, if you please.”
“Not without Seth,” retorted Lamont, reddening sullenly under Enoch’s dogged insistence. “If that’s a go, say so. If not, you can go to—” The oath did not escape him—something in the elder man’s eyes arrested it.