“Awkward! You’ve a right to be a judge of what’s awkward after the neat way you’ve managed things,” sneered Shanklin. “It takes you all your time to make things awkward for yourself, let alone troubling about us.”
Durfy always hated when Mr Shanklin alluded to his blunders, and he scowled all the more viciously now because he felt that, after all, he could do little against his two patrons which would not recoil with twofold violence on his own head. No, he had better confine his reprisals to the Crudens by Mr Shuckleford’s assistance, and meanwhile make what he could out of these ungrateful sharpers.
“If you don’t want me with you,” said he, “you’ll have to make it worth my while to stay away, that’s all. You’d think it a fine joke if you found yourself in the police-station instead of the railway-station to-morrow morning, wouldn’t you?”
And Mr Durfy’s face actually relaxed into a smile at this flash of pleasantry.
“You’d find it past a joke if you found yourself neck-and-crop in the gutter in two minutes,” said Mr Shanklin, in a rage, “as you will do if you don’t take care.”
“I’ll take care for fifty pounds,” said Durfy. “It’s precious little share I’ve had out of the business, and if you want me mum, that’s what will do it. There, I could tell you a thing or two already; you don’t know—”
“Tush! Durfy, you’re a born ass! Come round to my hotel to-morrow at eight, and I’ll see what I can do for you,” said Mr Medlock.
Durfy knew how to value such promises, and did not look by any means jubilant at the prospect held out. However, at this moment Blandford and Pillans entered the supper-room, and his hosts had something better to think about than him.
He was hustled from his place to make room for the new guests, and surlily retired to a neighbouring table, where, if he could not hear all that was said, he could at least see all that went on.
“Hullo!” said Shanklin gaily, “here’s a nice time to turn up, dear boys. Medlock and I have nearly done supper.”