"Hanged if I know!" said McQuade. "These two gentlemen presented themselves a few moments ago and requested me to send for Bolles. Have a cigar."
Morrissy took the proffered weed, but he did not light it. He turned it round and round in his teeth and chewed it. Well, so long as the boss did not seem alarmed, the trouble could not be serious. Yet he was not over-confident of Bennington's lowering face.
"Been a fine day," said Morrissy, at haphazard.
"Yes, but there's going to be a storm to-night." Warrington resumed his position on the table.
Conversation died. And then Bolles came in. At the sight of Bennington he recoiled.
"Come in, come in!" said McQuade. "Mr. Warrington will offer you a chair," facetiously.
"Yes, Bolles, sit down."
"Well, gentlemen, here's a quorum;" and McQuade began to rock in his chair. Three against two; that would do very well.
"I will go at once at the matter in hand. Those letters, John." Warrington held out his hand. "I'll read one to you, McQuade." He read slowly and distinctly.
"What the hell is this?" said Morrissy.