They were just about
to enter, when they heard Davenport's name called out in a nasal,
overbearing voice. A look of displeasure crossed Davenport's brow, as
both young men turned around. A tall, broad man, with a coarse, red face;
a man with hard, glaring eyes and a heavy black mustache; a man who had
intruded into a frock coat and high silk hat, and who wore a large
diamond in his tie; a man who swung his arms and used plenty of the
surrounding space in walking, as if greedy of it,--this man came across
the street, and, with an air of proprietorship, claimed Murray
Davenport's attention.
CHAPTER III.
A READY-MONEY MAN
"I want you," bawled the gentleman with the diamond, like a rustic
washerwoman summoning her offspring to a task. "I've got a little matter
for you to look after. S'pose you come around to dinner, and we can talk
it over."
"I'm engaged to dine with this gentleman," said Davenport, coolly.
"Well, that's all right," said the newcomer. "This gentleman can come,
too."
"We prefer to dine here," said Davenport, with firmness. "We have our own
reasons. I can meet you later."
"No, you can't, because I've got other business later. But if you're
determined to dine here, I can dine here just as well. So come on and
dine."
Davenport looked at the man wearily, and at Larcher apologetically; then
introduced the former to the latter by the name of Bagley. Vouchsafing a
brief condescending glance and a rough "How are you," Mr.
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