“A general meeting of shareholders!” he said. “Demanded!”
There was a moment’s pause, while he looked steadily into Ramsay’s immoveable face, and then he added in the same rather difficult tone:
“Did you expect this, Ramsay?”
“I never expect,” returned Ramsay drily. “Such a thing was on the cards, of course.”
Julian’s face grew dark and calculating.
“Well,” he said harshly, after another moment’s pause, “it must be arranged for, of course. What do you propose?”
Ramsay answered the question by another.
“Do you happen to know anything,” he said, “of a man named Compton—Howard Compton?”
Julian’s brows contracted as if with an involuntary effort to detect the relevancy of the question as he answered tersely:
“Yes. He and I belong to the same club.”