Then he came into the room. Of the three men seated there Humphrey was the only one who knew by certain small external signs, that the Caliph of Simpson Street was blazing with wrath. For here was his own hired lieutenant hobnobbing with the boy whose agile, irresponsible pen had made him the laughing stock of the township and with the intemperate rival who had first attacked and then defied him. And then he had just climbed the stairs for the third and what he meant to be the last time.
He came straight to business.
'Have you decided to accept my offer?'
'Sit down,' said McGibbon, pushing a chair over with his foot.
Boice ignored this final bit of insolence.
'Have you decided to accept my offer?'
'Well'—McGibbon shrugged; spread out his hands—'I've decided nothing, but as it looks now I may find myself forced to accept it.'
'Then I suggest that you accept it now.'
'Well——' the hands went out again.
'Wait a moment,' said Humphrey.