Puma waited.
“They meet this evening at eight in our hall,––your hall, if you choose.”
Puma nodded carelessly.
“All right. Put them out.”
“What?”
“Put ’em out!” growled Sondheim. “We don’t want them there to-night or any other night.”
“You ask me to evict respectable people who pay me rent?”
“I don’t ask you; I tell you.”
Puma turned a deep red: “And whose hall do you think it is?” he demanded in a silky voice.