"How are you, Mr. Leonidas Lynchpinne?" I replied, cheerfully; for I felt it to be my duty to demonstrate that I was not alarmed at my situation.
The demonstration was not a feint, either. I felt an utter contempt for Lynch, and, now that I realized his rascality, for Morgan Blair. I had fought the savage Indians in the forest, which had developed my courage, if nothing more. I glanced around the room, and saw at the grate an iron poker, with which I thought I might neutralize the odds against me, in case the interview resulted in anything more dangerous to life and health than mere words. The letter, in its postscript, as though it had been an afterthought, requested me to bring Mr. Gracewood's note. Blair had asked me to give it up to him. I was inclined to think that the parties before me wanted this note, though I could not imagine what earthly use it could be to them.
"You need not call me by that name any longer," added Lynch, biting his lip, and evidently vexed to find that I was not intimidated by my situation.
"As you gave me the name of Leonidas Lynchpinne, I shall consult my own inclination, rather than yours, in the use of it."
"You will change your tune before you are an hour older, Phil."
"If I do I shall take the pitch from you."
"You are here at my summons, my lad."
"I see now that I am; brought here by a lie and a swindle, which seem be your stock in trade."
"Don't be impudent, Phil."
"If you speak to me like a gentleman, I will answer you in the same way. You need not put on airs."