"How dare you dictate to me?"
"You'll see how I dare. Look here, Burrows, your accounts, as I showed you to-day, are all botched up."
Mr. Burrows calmed down partially. "Bah! a trifling oversight like that is not of the slightest consequence. Besides, I would have you realise that I am no mere accountant."
"So I'm writing to the firm at home. They'll turn loose a mere actuary over there."
Mr. Burrows gasped. "To the best of my knowledge and belief"—
"You submit a false balance-sheet backed by an affidavit,—which is perjury in London, Burrows, perjury."
"Bosh! Of course, I must look over the figures before they are actually sent off."
"No, you don't," muttered Mr. Ramsay, who was not half such a fool as he looked.
"What do you say?"
"Oh, nothing. Have you another cigar with you?"