"What's that?" cried Masterman, rising to his feet. His face was pale and terrible, and his attitude so menacing that Scales was afraid. But in that mean heart hate was stronger than fear, and it supplied a certain desperate courage.
"I didn't mean to tell you, sir. But you ought to know it. Ask what he has been doing in London this last fortnight. Ask him where he has been. I can tell you. He has been living with Hilary Vickars, he has been making love to his daughter. Vickars is a Socialist. And your son shares his views, and he has said publicly that your methods of business prove you a scoundrel."
"Is that true?" said Masterman.
"It is God's truth. Do you think I would have come between father and son with a lie that was bound to be found out."
"No; I believe if you lied, you'd choose a safe lie, Scales," he said bitterly.
"You are unjust to me, sir. I have never lied to you. I don't lie now."
"That will do," said Masterman.
"But what will you do?"
"That's my affair," he retorted grimly.
"But it's my affair too, sir. I want to know whether your son's report is to go against my experience and yours? whether you will complete this Leatham purchase or not?"