“Forgery,” said the stranger. “It is an English word, I believe. Forgery, in which your son was chief agent. Have I made myself understood?”
Potts looked at him again, and then slowly went to the door, locked it, and put the key in his pocket.
“That’s right,” said the stranger, quietly.
“You appear to take things easy,” rejoined Potts, angrily; “but let me tell you, if you come to bully me you’ve got into the wrong shop.”
“You appear somewhat heated. You must be calm, or else we can not get to business; and in that case I shall have to leave.”
“I don’t see how that would be any affliction,” said Potts, with a sneer.
“That’s because you don’t understand my position, or the state of the present business. For if I leave it will be the signal for a number of interested parties to make a combined attack on you.”
“An attack?”
“Yes.”
“Who is there?” said Potts, defiantly.