Gray looked sharply up.
"What do you mean by that?"
"I don't mean anything. But you're a pretty fellow, ain't you, to crow over me?"
The taunt was more than Gray could bear.
"What do you mean?" he exclaimed again, with sharper emphasis as he leapt to his feet. "How dare you?"
Lumley laughed out—a rough, coarse, jeering laugh, which filled Gray with sickening, helpless rage.
"Don't you be afraid of me," he said; "a partner's always safe with me. I don't set up to be a virtuous cove like you, but a partner's always safe with me. We'll go shares, mate—share and share alike. That's a fair offer, ain't it?"
His manner was as coarse and offensive as he could make it. He seemed to find delight in the sort of torture he was inflicting on Gray.
Gray seated himself again and tried hard to recover his coolness. After all, he told himself, he had but to bear Lumley's insults for a time. He had but to wait till they reached a settlement for this hideous partnership to be over.
"It seems to me we are wasting good time, my man," he said, in the lofty tone that so nettled Lumley. "I don't pretend to understand your innuendoes, but let that pass. What you want is the money, isn't it?"