John rose and stood glaring at the judge whose shifting eyes avoided him.
“Well, you’re on solid ground there, your Honour! Were I the master of every language of earth, past master of all the dead tongues of the ages, a genius in the use of every epithet the rage of man ever spoke, still words would have no power to express my contempt for you!”
The Judge shuffled his big feet as if to rise.
“Sit still!” John growled. “I’ve come here to-night to demand of you two things.”
“You’re in no position to demand anything of me!” spluttered Butler, running his hand nervously through his heavy black hair.
“Two things,” John went on evenly: “First revoke your order and restore me to my law practice to-morrow morning.”
“Not until you apologise for your criticism.”
“That’s what I’m doing now. I profoundly regret the incident. I should have kicked you across the street—criticism was an error of judgment.”
Butler shambled to his feet, trembling with rage, pulled nervously at his beard again and gasped:
“How dare you insult me in my house!”