Sawn Off.
Lord Pinemount was seated in his library, biting his nails mentally, as he lay back in his easy chair glaring at his steward, who stood before him wishing he could get another post, where his master would not be a tyrant, and thinking that, if it had not been for the fact that he had a large wife and a small family at home, he would resign at once.
“And you are sure?”
“Oh yes, my lord—quite.”
“Went straight there?”
“Yes, my lord; and I hope your lordship considers I have done my duty in telling you according to your orders.”
“I consider, sir, that you have behaved like a miserable, contemptible sneak.”
“But your lordship told me to—”
“Don’t talk to me, sir. Leave the room.”
The steward left the room, and as he closed the door he turned round, showing his teeth, and shook his fist.