“Follow it, then,” said Dick scornfully, “and let your boys come after you.”
Tom turned upon him resentfully, but merely ground his teeth; while Fred winked, and tapped his teeth with his cane.
“I have not been idle during my interview with my poor afflicted brother,” continued Max; “and I have seen enough from his wild behaviour and language to know that the mental disease that has been threatening for years has now obtained such a hold that he is no longer fit to manage his own affairs.”
“I say, hold hard there!” cried Dick, looking at him in a puzzled way.
“I shall, of course, make due arrangements for the proper carrying out of his business, and for protecting the interests of his wife and child.”
“Mr Shingle!” cried Tom, stepping forward, “this is atrocious: there are no grounds for what you say.”
“Silence, sir!” roared Max; while Dick’s countenance underwent a complete change.
“There!” cried Dick angrily, as he appealed in turn to all present; “what did I always say? Max, you always were, and always will be, a ’umbug!”
“What?” cried Max.
“A ’umbug, sir. U-m, um—b-u-double-g, bug, ’umbug! That for you!” cried Dick, snapping his fingers in his brother’s face.