Читать книгу A Son of Ishmael. A Novel онлайн

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“Come, no nonsense of that sort,” said Scrivener. “You were bound to be here. I thought the boxes would be packed and ready to be sent off; Samson tells me there is nothing done.”

“Everything that is necessary is done,” said Rowton. “I don’t choose to be called over the coals by Samson.”

“Come, come, Rowton,” said Scrivener, giving his tall host another lightning glance, “there is no good in your getting into a temper. You are all very well, and of course a great help to us, and your manners and your ways are no end of a blind, and we are awfully obliged to you, but all the same, business is business, and you have no call to neglect any of our interests.”

“I do not do so,” said Rowton. He stood up as he spoke. “By Heaven!” he exclaimed, “I give up my life to your cursed interests. I have wrecked my soul for them. You have no right to twit me with want of zeal. Where would any of you be without me?”

“I know that, Silver, I know it,” said the man in a servile tone. He walked again to the window and looked out. “All the same,” he added after a pause, “the boxes are not ready and they must be moved to-night.”