Chilcote colored. “You are unpleasantly blunt,” he said.
“But I have caught your meaning?”
“In the rough, yes.”
Loder nodded curtly. “Then take my advice and go home,” he said. “You're unhinged.”
The other returned his glance, and as their eyes met Loder was reluctantly compelled to admit that, though the face was disturbed, it had no traces of insanity.
“I make you a proposal,” Chilcote repeated, nervously but with distinctness. “Do you accept?”
For an instant Loder was at a loss to find a reply sufficiently final. Chilcote broke in upon the pause.
“After all,” he urged, “what I ask of you is a simple thing. Merely to carry through my routine duties for a week or two occasionally when I find my endurance giving way—when a respite becomes essential. The work would be nothing to a man in your state of mind, the pay anything you like to name.” In his eagerness he had followed Loder to the desk. “Won't you give me an answer? I told you I am neither mad nor drunk.”
Loder pushed back the scattered papers that lay under his arm.
“Only a lunatic would propose such a scheme.” he said, brusquely and without feeling.