The blood surged up into Roger's cheeks and his features sharpened. When he finally spoke it was very slowly.
"I'll thank you to keep your mouth shut on matters that don't concern you," he said icily.
Faxon's eyes gleamed angrily, and his lips parted; but he did not speak. He passed his hand across his mouth and laughed nervously.
Baker put his hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Let's see how the cards are going, Roger...."
But Wynrod shook him off. "Would you mind beating it, John—just a moment. I want to talk to Faxon—there's a good fellow—"
Baker surveyed the pair—and hesitated. Then, with a cold and meaning glance at Faxon, he shrugged his shoulders and went out.
When the curtains had closed, Wynrod turned to Faxon. He drew in his breath and his teeth clicked sharply.
"I may run the risk of breach of promise suits," he said, after a long pause, "but I stay away from married women."
"Well, that's noble of you to be sure, but—what of it?"
"You don't."