“What do you mean?”
“What does that mean?” said Drake, throwing the paper on to the table.
“Well, what of it?”
“The initials to that letter are yours, and all the men I meet tell me that you have written it.”
“They do, do they? Well?”
“I won't ask you if you did or if you didn't.”
“Don't, dear boy.”
“But I'll require you to disown it, publicly and at once.”
“And if I won't—what then?”
“Then I'll tell the public for myself that it's a lie, a cowardly and contemptible lie, and that the man who wrote it is a cur!”