"Well, I guess you'll have to be content with that."
"Mr. Carmichael," the senior member leaped to his feet, "you forget yourself! You will be good enough to answer me yes or no, to my direct question. Did you or did you not pay money for this privilege?"
Carmichael's voice shook as he replied:—
"See here, Dround! If you don't know your own business enough to know the answer, I don't see why I should tell you." His temper was going with every word he said. "But if you want to know, you shall! There hasn't been such a thing as a private switch-track put down in this city since you began doing business for less than seven thousand dollars. I paid the right people ninety-five hundred dollars for ours. There, you've got it! Now what are you going to do about it?"
"I paid the right people ninety-five hundred dollars. Now what are you going to do about it?"
The big Irishman plumped his two red fists on Mr. Dround's desk and glared at him. At that moment I pitied the old gentleman heartily; he was never born to do business, at least in our day. He seemed to shrivel up under Carmichael's words.
"How, may I ask," he said at last in a low tone, "was this done without my knowledge? How does it appear on the books?"
Carmichael laughed at the simple question.