Tom could scarcely be induced to take the hint, and talked at large on the science of boxing during the remainder of the meal with an access of high spirits which, on any other occasion, would have been amusing.
Mr Ratman, later in the day, appeared with a decidedly marred visage, and announced with the best grace he could that an important business letter that morning necessitated his return to London.
In private he explained himself more fully to his host.
“If this is what you call making me comfortable,” growled he, with an unusual number of oaths interspersed in his sentence, “you’ve a pretty notion of your own interests.”
“My dear fellow, how could I help it?”
“You can help it now, and you’ll have to. I may be only a creditor, but I’ll let you see I am not going to be treated in this house like a dog, for all that.”
“The awkward thing is that if you had behaved—”
“Shut up about how I behaved,” snarled the other. “You’ll have to clear that cad out of the way here. I’ll not come back till you do; and till I do come back you’re sitting on a volcano.”
“My dear fellow, you will spoil everything if you take such an absurd view of the matter—really you will. Of course I’ll put you right. You are my guest. But remember my difficult position here.”
“It will be a precious deal more difficult for you soon. I can promise you,” said Mr Ratman, lifting his hand to his swollen eye with an oath. “Now then, I’ll give you a month. If you’re not rid of this fellow by then, and aren’t a good deal nearer than you are now to squaring up with me, you’ll be sorry you ever heard my name.”