The old lawyer bowed, and scrutinised the speaker carefully.
“He had a quick, sharp way of speaking, and a habit of looking behind him as if in search of danger.”
“Exactly. You are describing Mr George Harrington most carefully.”
“The villain! The hound! And I thought it was for robbery only. Well, one knows how to treat a man like that when we meet.”
He showed his regular white teeth, as his brow puckered up, and there was a look of fierce determination in his eyes as startling as his next act, which was to slip his hand behind him, and draw a small heavy-looking revolver from his pocket. This he examined quickly as he tried the lock.
“Put that away, sir,” cried Mr Hampton sternly. “You are not in the Far West now but in civilised England. Give me that pistol instantly.”
The young man handed the weapon without a moment’s hesitation.
“I beg your pardon, Mr Hampton,” he said. “Temper, got the better of me.”
He threw himself into a chair.
“Will you let me speak out quietly and calmly?”