Rodney smiled at his visitor pleasantly; but the smile, instead of affording Mr. Dale gratification, not only caused his scowl to deepen, but induced him to use language of unexpected vigour.
"You're a liar! That's what you are--a liar! You're a liar, because you know quite well what I mean. I'm not afraid of you. You're a bigger man than I am, but I can use the gloves. You wouldn't knock me out so easy as you think. I'd mark you first! But I haven't come here to fight you."
"That, at least, is gratifying intelligence, Mr. Dale."
"Oh, you can sneer--you're one of the sneering sort; but sneers won't do you any good. You take my tip and get as far away from this as you can--out of England, if you can!--between now and this time to-morrow!"
Rodney regarded his visitor with an air of placid amusement, which certainly did not seem to have a soothing effect.
"Mr. Dale, am I indebted to you for this?"
He held out the sheet of paper on which were the two typewritten lines. Mr. Dale eyed it askance.
"What's that? Where did you get it from?"
"It came by this morning's post--from you?"
"That I'll swear it never did; what's more, I don't know who it does come from. That looks as if there were more than one in it. I'll commit myself to nothing. I've got myself to think of as well as you; but, although this didn't come from me, and I don't know anything at all about it, you do what it says here--get clean away while you have still a chance."