“May I ask, Mr. Malahide,” he said drily—“what I am doing here?”
The fat little man kicked out his legs:
“That’s just it, sir,” said he—“that’s just it. Well, you see, it’s this way. Now, Mr. Doome, I’m a pretty good-hearted, but rather damn vulgar man——”
He waited patiently for an answer.
Doome looked at him steadily:
“Yes,” said he—“by the splendour of God, you are.”
“Good. Now, sir, I’ve made my bit of money in the house-furniture business already; but Tankerton Wollup he’s at the top; and he’s dead sure to become a bloomin’ baronet; and he’s as vulgar as I am.”
He paused, eyeing the floor at his feet, meditatively.
Doome nodded:
“I will only interrupt you to question the accuracy of your statements, Mr. Malahide,” he said grimly.