“You––you confounded scoundrel! You––you miserable individual! You––you trickster!”
“Go on,––go on!” put in Jim coolly, “the more you call me down, the better I like it. I’m a positive glutton for anathema. Mr. DeRue Hannington simply eats up elocution,––eh, Ben!”
The editor smiled dryly. “He does, but he is finding 250 some difficulty in digesting some of yours, Jim, and I’m not surprised at it.”
Jim held over the desk ’phone to Hannington.
“Better ’phone up for Palmer and get it over.”
Hannington pushed the receiver away.
“I refuse,––I––I decline absolutely. I shan’t prosecute,––damned if I do! It is downright blackmail. Yes,––by gad! Give me back my cheque, Mr. Todd, and let me go. I’m jolly-well sick of this.”
“‘Give me my principal and let me go,’” quoted Jim in mockery.
“I can’t do that, Mr. Hannington. Sorry,” said the editor, “but if you decline to prosecute, the money goes to Mr. Langford.”
“Then, by gad!” cried Hannington, “I shall prosecute to the utmost deuced rigour of the bally law, and be-dimned to him. You cawn’t fool lightly with a DeRue Hannington,––no sirs!