Brent sat and considered him.
“What’s the matter? What are you talking about?”
“Come down,” said Bibi again; “you know what I mean.”
Brent’s eyes went hard. He knew what had happened to Louis Blanc’s house, having strolled up there soon after dawn, and he sensed some connexion between the fallen chimney and that ugly figure in the road. The fellow wanted a row; he had found an excuse for it; but Brent had made up his mind not to give Bibi his chance. A row might prove most damnably awkward, and Paul meant to smile the man off.
“Look here,” he said. “I’m busy. What’s all this about?”
“Come down,” barked Bibi, with the persistence of a furious dog.
Brent laughed, turned, and pretended to go on with his work, but he kept an eye on the top of the ladder that projected above the wall.
“You pig of a coward,” said the voice.
Brent began hammering.
“You knocked away the foundations of my chimney.”