“What is not true?” he demanded.
“It’s not true that Mr. Sartwell refuses to see his own men.”
“Are you one of them?”
“Yes. Are you?”
There was a rustle of intense enjoyment at this palpable hit at Gibbons. The glib speaker himself was taken aback by the retort, but only for a moment.
“I thought,” continued the secretary, “that it might have been some one sent here to interrupt this meeting. This may still be the case, but we will waive that point. We will not follow Mr. Sartwell’s example, and if there is any friend of his present we shall be pleased to hear from him at the proper time. As I was about to say when I was int——”
“I answered your question; answer mine,” cried the voice.
Gibbons glanced appealingly at the Chair for protection, and Scimmins rapped feebly with his gavel on the table in front of him, saying, “Order, order,” but in a tone that he apparently hoped nobody would hear.
“What is your question?” asked Gibbons, with an angry ring in his voice.
“Are you an employee of Monkton & Hope?”