And I swung aboard it, back for little old New York. Didn't see what the chauffeur did. Wasn't interested, you know, about that.
CHAPTER XV
BILLINGS' SYMPTOMS ALARM ME
"Most infernal outrage of the century, I tell you!" Billings stormed. For an hour I had sat there in my rooms, limp and bewildered under the tempest of his wrath. The wild and incoherent sputter over the 'phone that Jenkins reported upon my return had sent me on a hunt for my friend. I had found him sullenly dining alone over at the club, and as soon as I entered he started to bolt from the room. Only through the greatest pleading had I managed to coax him back to my chambers, hoping I might screw out of him some explanation.
I had received it, by Jove!
Of course, I recognized it all as impossible and crazy, you know, but when I said so to Billings his remarks were so violent, and he turned such a dangerous apoplectic purple, dashed if I didn't renege.
"But then the old man, you know!" I protested weakly.
Billings leveled his big arm at me, mouthing wordlessly for a minute.
"That—that'll do, about that old man!" he choked at last. "Not—not another word about him!" And finally he collapsed into his seat from sheer exhaustion. Just sat there panting and glaring at me like a jolly bulldog.