“Better do what I said, sir,” said Dinass, with a grim look, “I warn you.”
“I said that will do, sir,” cried the Colonel, firmly. “Gwyn, my boy, pay him and let him go.”
Joe’s chin dropped upon his chest, and he rested his hand upon the back of the nearest chair.
Then he started and looked at the door wonderingly, for, scowling savagely, Tom Dinass stuck on his hat very much sidewise, and, without pausing to receive the money, strode out of the place and went right away.
“Specimen of sturdy British independence,” said the Colonel, sternly. “I’m sorry, but he is not a man to have about the place. He is dangerous; and when it comes to covert threats of what he would do if not engaged, one feels that help is out of the question. Be the better for me if I engage him—means all the worse for me if I do not. There, it is not worth troubling about; but if he comes back for the money, when he has cooled down, let him have it.”
“Yes, father,” said Gwyn, and he went on with his letters, but somehow, from time to time the thought of the man’s fierce manner came back to him, and he could not help thinking how unpleasant a man Dinass could be if he set himself up for an enemy.