Sarah rustled into the hall just then.
"Van!" she said, bowing coldly to John, "we are all waiting for you."
"Better go, Harrington," Carmichael said sarcastically, reaching for his hat; "business don't count when there's a party goin' on."
"Oh, it's business!" Sarah's voice could carry a deal of scorn.
"Leave a ticket for me and I'll follow later," I replied impatiently, leading Carmichael into my library.
"Very well," Sarah answered, and swept out of the hall without a look for the Irishman.
Carmichael took a cigar, poured out a long drink of whiskey, and thrust his ungainly figure into a chair before the fire without saying a word. After a time he ripped out:—
"You aren't thinking of staying with old Dround?"
"That depends—" I began.
"Dround'll go broke inside of two years," he interrupted savagely. "His credit ain't much to boast of now, and when it gets around that I have drawn out, it won't improve."