Hallam raised his big hand, and pressed his thumb down slowly and viciously on the table. "It don't need admitting. I've got you there," he said. "Still, I don't know that I want to squeeze you. Well, I once kept Alton out of Somasco to please you, and now I want you to keep him right here in Vancouver for a while."
"I could not do it."
"Well," said Hallam, grinning, "if you couldn't, I figure your daughter could."
Deringham had all along been struggling with a sense of disgust, and now his anger mastered him. It was, however, the rage of a weak man which is not far removed from fear.
"You infernal scoundrel," he said.
Hallam laughed brutally. "That may do you good, and it makes no difference to me," he said. "I want Alton to stop here just three weeks from to-day. He'll stay without pressing for two of them, I think—and you've got to keep him during the third one. There's nothing going to hurt him, but it wouldn't be wise to fool things, you understand?"
He took up his hat as he spoke, and moved towards the door, while
Deringham's eyes blazed when it closed behind him.
"Damn him!" he said, almost choked with impotent fury, and then sat down limply with a face that grew suddenly blanched. His hand shook as he seized his glass, and some of the wine he needed was spilled upon the table, for his eyes grew dim as the faintness came upon him. Deringham had been recommended a rest from all excitement and business anxieties before he sailed from England, and passion was distinctly injudicious considering the condition of one of his organs.