"You're a dear, Jack, but if you love me, keep your hands off here."
"Are you bossing this job?" he asked gravely.
"I'm bossing this job," she repeated, with equal gravity.
He said nothing more for a time, but his eyes twinkled.
XLVII
Keith's investigations proceeded until at last he felt justified in preferring before the Bar Association charges of irregular practice against James Ware, Bernard Black, and—to his great regret—Calhoun Bennett. He conceived he had enough evidence to convict these men legally, but he as yet shrank from asking for an indictment against them, preferring at first to try for their discipline before their fellow lawyers. If the Bar Association failed, however, he had every intention of pressing the matter in the courts.
Almost immediately after the filing of the complaint he was waited on in his office by a man only slightly known to him, Major Marmaduke Miles. The major's occupation in life was obscure. He was a red-faced, tightly buttoned, full-jowled, choleric Southerner of the ultra-punctilious brand, always well dressed in quaint and rather old-fashioned garments, with charming manners, and the reminiscence of good looks lost in a florid and apoplectic habit. This person entered Keith's office, greeted him formally, declined a chair. Standing very erect before Keith's desk, his beaver hat poised on his left forearm, he said:
"I am requested, suh, to enquiah of yo' the name of a friend with whom
I can confer."
"If that means a challenge, Major, I must first ask the name of your principal," returned Keith.
"I am actin' fo' Mr. Calhoun Bennett, suh," stated the major.