As Evan resolutely mounted the stairs, the old man hobbling after said: "Well, I'll add two and a half to that myself. But that's my last word! Not another cent!"
"Nothing doing," said Evan again.
At the head of the stairs Deaves said nervously: "Better let me take a look to see if Maud's around." He peeped out. "All right, the coast is clear."
They were now in a square entrance hall of goodly size, very showily finished like a hotel with veneered panels, which already showed signs of wear. Imitation antique chairs stood about, and in front of the fireplace, which was certainly never intended to contain a fire, was spread a somewhat moth-eaten polar bear skin. Still it was grand after a fashion, and the old man in his hand-me-downs looked oddly out of place.
"Better think it over!" he said. "Twenty dollars a week! It's a splendid salary!"
"Nothing doing," said Evan, grinning. In a way he liked the old scoundrel.
Deaves affected to lose his temper. "Oh, you're too big for your shoes!" he cried. "Your demands are preposterous!"
Evan continued calmly to make his way towards the front door.
Just before they reached it the old man made one last appeal. "Twenty dollars!" he said plaintively.
A door at the back of the hall opened and an old-young man came out; that is to say he was young in years, but he seemed to bear the weight of an empire on his shoulders, and looked very, very sorry for himself. He was dressed as if he had to be a pall-bearer that day, but that was his ordinary attire. He looked sharply from the old man to Evan.