"What's the good of trying to pass it off like that, old man? It could only be you."
"I don't know what you're driving at. You seem to be talking rot," said Cotton, angrily, for he fancied that Gus was fooling him in some way.
"Well, I've got an order for £1 this morning, envelope stamped St. Amory, and it could only come from some one who knew I was stumped, and you're the only fellow who knew that, unless, indeed, you've been kind enough to tell some of the fellows."
"I've told no one; and anyway, I didn't send the order."
"Oh, rot!"
"Thanks! I don't tell lies as a rule, and I say I know nothing whatever about your order. I think you'd better cut now, instead of wasting my time with this rotten foolery."
"You didn't send it?" said Gus, finally, with more than a dash of irritation in his voice at the continued boorishness of Cotton.
"No, I tell you! Shall I get a foghorn and let you have it that way?"
"Then, look here, Cotton. If you didn't send it, your underscoring of my name on the house list because I couldn't subscribe was the act of an arrant cad."
Cotton winced at Gus's concise definition, but he said, "Oh, get out, you fool!"