Blatchford, of the 'Little Mary.' I wish
you'd phone your freight agent to see that it is properly taken care of,
and that the freight bill is sent to me."
Gantry made no reply, but he went obediently to the house telephone and
gave the necessary instructions. The thing done, he turned shortly upon
Blount, scowling morosely.
"Come on in and let's have a drink," he said.
Blount marked the brittleness of tone and the half-quarrelsome light in
the eyes which were a little bloodshot.
"No, Dick; you've had one too many already," he objected firmly.
Gantry put his back against the wall of the corridor.
"No," he rasped; "I'm not drunk, but I'm ready to fight you to a finish,
and for once in a way I'm going to get in the first lick. You've been
bluffing me from the start, and you're going to try it again. It won't
go this time; you've got to show me!"
If Blount hesitated it was only because he was trying to determine
whether or not the traffic manager was business-fit. Gantry comprehended
perfectly, and his laugh was derisive and a trifle bitter.
"You're sizing me up and asking yourself if I'm too far gone to be worth
while," he jeered. "If I couldn't stand any more liquid grief than you
can, I would have been down and out years ago. Show your hand, Evan--if
you have any to show."
Blount hesitated no longer.
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