“I do not do so,” said Rowton. He stood up as he spoke. “By Heaven!” he exclaimed, “I give up my life to your cursed interests. I have wrecked my soul for them. You have no right to twit me with want of zeal. Where would any of you be without me?”
“I know that, Silver, I know it,” said the man in a servile tone. He walked again to the window and looked out. “All the same,” he added after a pause, “the boxes are not ready and they must be moved to-night.”
“You have the afternoon to get them ready in,” said Rowton.
“Well, let us have something to eat and set to work,” answered Scrivener.
Rowton crossed the room and rang the bell. Samson appeared after a moment.
“Get something to eat for yourself and this man in the kitchen,” he said.
“In the kitchen!” said Scrivener; “do you think I will eat in the kitchen with your serving man!”
“You won’t eat with me,” replied Rowton. “I am sick of the whole concern and have a good mind to cut it.”
“Ah! you dare not do that,” said Scrivener; “you are too deep in by now. What about the Kimberley diamonds and the silver ingots, and the——?”
Rowton’s tone changed. He stood up, and a look of perplexity flitted across his handsome face.