"Shut the door," Trent said shortly.
Da Souza obeyed with unabashed amiability. Trent watched him with
something like disgust. Da Souza returning caught the look, and
felt compelled to protest.
"My dear Trent," he said, "I do not like the way you address me, or
your manners towards me. You speak as though I were a servant. I
do not like it all, and it is not fair. I am your guest, am I not?"
"You are my guest by your own invitation," Trent answered roughly,
"and if you don't like my manners you can turn out. I may have to
endure you in the house till I have made up my mind how to get rid
of you, but I want as little of your company as possible. Do you
hear?"
Da Souza did hear it, and the worm turned. He sat down in the most
comfortable easy-chair, and addressed Trent directly.
"My friend," he said, "you are out of temper, and that is a bad
thing. Now listen to me! You are in my power. I have only to go
into the City to-morrow and breathe here and there a word about a
certain old gentleman who shall be nameless, and you would be a
ruined man in something less than an hour; added to this, my friend,
you would most certainly be arrested for conspiracy and fraud. That
Syndicate of yours was a very smart stroke of business, no doubt,
and it was clever of you to keep me in ignorance of it, but as
things have turned out now, that will be your condemnation.
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