"Then get out," snapped Armstrong, who was white with anger.
Findlater stood motionless, silent, under that unwavering gaze. His flushed features betrayed a tremendous effort to hold his anger in check.
"You'll be damned sorry for this!" he said slowly.
"Is that a threat?" asked Macgowan, sitting up.
Findlater whirled on him. "Shut up! I've had enough of your hectoring and bullying; you change your ways or I'll make trouble!"
"Look here, Findlater," cut in Armstrong's quiet voice, and the other turned again. "You're under a three year contract to serve this company as president, in consideration of a thousand shares of Consolidated common. Let's have it straight, now. You're threatening me?"
"No, I'm not," said Findlater, trembling with rage. "I'm saying that you'll be damned sorry if you turn down this proposition! Some one else will take it up and make big money."
"Oh," said Armstrong, and relaxed. "Let them have it and welcome. That's final. Now, may I ask how you'll make trouble for Macgowan?"
Findlater mastered himself, and made response in a calmer tone.
"I propose to be treated as a gentleman, that's all. Mac comes in and orders me about like a dog; and I want it to stop! As for making trouble, that meant nothing. I—I think my nerves are jangled this morning. Since you won't consider the matter at all, that ends it."