He was too slow. Cameron reached swiftly for his collar, and with one fierce wrench swept Mr. Bates clear over the top of his desk, shook him till his head wobbled dangerously, and flung him crashing across the desk and upon the prostrate form of the lanky youth sitting behind it.
“Call a policeman! Call a policeman!” shouted Mr. Bates, who was struggling meantime with the lanky youth to regain an upright position.
Cameron, meanwhile, walked quietly to where his coat and cap hung.
“Hold him, somebody! Hold him!” shouted Mr. Bates, hurrying towards him.
Cameron turned fiercely upon him.
“Did you want me, Sir?” he inquired.
Mr. Bates arrested himself with such violence that his feet slid from under him, and once more he came sitting upon the floor.
“Get up!” said Cameron, “and listen to me!”
Mr. Bates rose, and stood, white and trembling.
“I may not know much about your Canadian ways of business, but I believe I can teach you some old-country manners. You have treated me this morning like the despicable bully that you are. Perhaps you will treat the next old-country man with the decency that is coming to him, even if he has the misfortune to be your clerk.”