The Creditor appeared more than willing. He fixed Ukridge with a glittering eye, and his bosom heaved with pent-up emotion.
“Sorry to intrude on a family on Sunday evening,” he said, “but this young man told me I should find Mr. Smallweed here, so I came along. I’ve been hunting for him high and low for two years and more about a matter of one pound two and threepence for goods supplied.”
“He owes you money?” faltered Mr. Price.
“He bilked me,” said the Creditor, precisely.
“Is this true?” said Mr. Price, turning to Ukridge.
Ukridge had risen and seemed to be wondering whether it was possible to sidle unobserved from the room. At this question he halted, and a weak smile played about his lips.
“Well——” said Ukridge.
The head of the family pursued his examination no further. His mind appeared to be made up. He had weighed the evidence and reached a decision. His eyes flashed. He raised a hand and pointed to the door.
“Leave my house!” he thundered.
“Right-o!” said Ukridge, mildly.