“Tulliwuddle!” interrupted the Count. “Don't let your natural indignation carry you away! Mr. Maddison, that statement is not true. I can vouch for it.”
“Ach, of course it is not true,” said the Baron more calmly, as he began to realize that it was not his own character that was being aspersed.
“I am very glad to hear it,” continued Mr. Maddison, who apparently did not share the full austerity of his son's views, since without further question he hurried on to the next point.
“Item 2, sir, states that at least two West End firms are threatening you with proceedings if you do not discharge their accounts within a reasonable time.”
“A lie!” declared the Baron emphatically.
“Will you be so kind as to favor us with the name of the individual who is thus libelling his lordship?” demanded the Count with a serious air.
Mr. Maddison hastily put the paper back in his pocket, and with a glance checked his son's gesture of protest.
“Guess we'd better pass on to the next thing, Ri. I told you it wasn't any darned use just asking. But you boys always think you know better than your Poppas,” said he; and then, turning to the Count, “It isn't worth while troubling, Count; I'll see that these reports get contradicted, if I have to buy up a daily paper and issue it at a halfpenny. Yes, sir, you can leave it to me.”
The Count glanced at his friend, and they exchanged a grave look.
“Again we place ourselves in your hands,” said Bunker.