It was the
smile that touched to life the mass of combustible material that had
been accumulating for the last hour in Cameron's soul. Instead of
following the boy, he turned with a swift movement back to the manager's
desk, laid his sheaf of letters down on Mr. Bates' papers, and, leaning
over the desk, towards that gentleman, said:
"Did you mean that remark to apply to me?" His voice was very quiet.
But Mr. Bates started back with a quick movement from the white face and
burning eyes.
"Here, you get out of this!" he cried.
"Because," continued Cameron, "if you did, I must ask you to apologise
at once."
All smiles vanished from the office staff, even Jimmy's face assumed a
serious aspect. Mr. Bates pushed back his chair.
"A-po-pologise!" he sputtered. "Get out of this office, d'ye hear?"
"Be quick!" said Cameron, his hands gripping Mr. Bates' desk till it
shook.
"Jimmy! Call a policeman!" cried Mr. Bates, rising from his chair.
He was too slow. Cameron reached swiftly for his collar, and with one
fierce wrench swept Mr. Bates clear over the top of his desk, shook him
till his head wobbled dangerously, and flung him crashing across the
desk and upon the prostrate form of the lanky youth sitting behind it.
"Call a policeman! Call a policeman!" shouted Mr.
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