He had the firmness now to look Mr Abbott straight in the eye, and doing so, he said in a voice that was almost equally firm:
“Perhaps you do not know that they have found gold?”
“GOLD!” roared, bellowed, thundered Mr Abbott. He blew out a great breath, and whispered at the end of it: “Oh Lord in heaven!”
Mr Burden could bear no more.
He got up and said: “I’m sorry for this, Abbott, but I don’t think that either you or I will profit by continuing the scene.”
Mr Abbott rose at the same time from his big wooden chair.
“You may go if you like, Burden,” he said, wagging his forefinger, and staring into his friend’s face, as is the fashion of insolent men; “you may go if you like ... but don’t blame me if they knock you! They’re a lot of —— scoundrels, and if you have anything to do with them you’re a —— fool ... and remember I said so. Don’t blame me if they knock you!”
“I blame you for nothing but your expressions, Abbott,” said Mr Burden.
His legs were trembling beneath him with emotion; he repressed it, and walked slowly to the door, which he was careful to shut behind him with courteous ease.
When he was gone Mr Abbott, whose mind was closed to all save the most immediate things, stared at the door a moment, first blankly, then a little sadly. At last he gave an enormous cough, followed by a laugh yet more enormous, and within ten minutes had forgotten the scene in the intricacies of a policy.