Monty may have been disreputable enough, I've no doubt he was; but
his going away and staying there all these years was a piece of
noble unselfishness."
"Monty has been hardly used in some ways," Trent said. "I've done
my best by him, though."
"That," Francis said coldly, "is a matter of opinion."
"I know very well," Trent answered, "what yours is. You are welcome
to it. You can blackguard me all round London if you like in a week
- but I want a week's grace."
"Why should I grant it you?"
Trent shrugged his shoulders.
"I won't threaten," he said, "and I won't offer to bribe you, but
I've got to have that week's grace. We're both men, Francis, who've
been accustomed to our own way, I think. I want to know on what
terms you'll grant it me."
Francis knocked the ash off his cigarette and rose slowly to his
feet.
"You want to know," he repeated meditatively, "on what terms I'll
hold my tongue for a week. Well, here's my answer! On no terms
at all!"
"You don't mean that," Trent said quietly.
"We shall see," Francis answered grimly. "I'll be frank with you,
Trent. When we came in here you called me your enemy. Well, in
a sense you were right. I distrusted and disliked you from the
moment I first met you in Bekwando village with poor old Monty for
a partner, and read the agreement you had drawn up and the clause
about the death of either making the survivor sole legatee.
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