'Why, he has been talking over election matters. It seems Wylder—Mr. Wylder—has met him in Geneva, from whence he dates; and he says—he says—oh, here's the letter, and you'll see it all there.'
He handed it to Lake, and kept his eye on him while he read it. When he saw that Lake, who bit his lip during the perusal, had come to the end, by his glancing up again at the date, Larkin murmured—
'Something, you see, has gone wrong with him. I can't account for the temper otherwise—so violent.'
'Quite so,' said Lake, quietly; 'and where is the notice he speaks of here?'
'Why, really, Captain Lake, I did not very well know, it is such a production—I could not say whether you would wish it presented; and in any case you will do me the justice to understand that I, for my part—I really don't know how to speak of it.
'Quite so,' repeated Lake, softly, taking the thin, neatly folded piece of paper which Larkin, with a sad inclination of his body, handed to him.
Lake, under the 'lawyer's' small, vigilant eyes, quietly read Mark Wylder's awful threatenings through, twice over, and Larkin was not quite sure whether there was any change of countenance to speak of as he did so.
'This is dated the 29th,' said Lake, in the same quiet tone; 'perhaps you will be so good as to write a line across it, stating the date of your handing it to me.'
'I—of course—I can see no objection. I may mention, I suppose, that I do so at your request.'
And Larkin made a neat little endorsement to that effect, and he felt relieved. The hyaena certainly was not showing fight.