“I am sure I beg your pardon. I didn’t know—”
“Then you will know in future. If you’ve got a hand on you, stick it out, whether your visitor has any money or not.”
Grant was glaring at the lawyer across the desk, and the pugnacious-looking moustache was beginning to bristle back.
“Did you come in here to read me a lecture, or to get legal advice?” the lawyer returned with some spirit.
“I came in here on business. In the course of that business I find it necessary to tell you where you get off at, and to ask you what you’re going to do about it.”
The lawyer came around from behind his desk. “And I’ll show you,” he said, very curtly. “You’ve been drinking, or you’re out of your head. In either case I’m going to put you out of this room until you are in a different frame of mind.”
“Hop to it!” said Grant, bracing himself. Jones was an oldish man, and he had no intention of hurting him. In a moment they clenched, and before Grant could realize what was happening he was on his back.
He arose quickly, laughing, and sat down in a chair. “Mr. Jones, will you sit down? I want to talk to you.”
“If you will talk business. You were rude to me.”
“Perhaps. For my rudeness I apologize. But I was not untruthful. And I wanted to find something out. I found it.”