"Dear old thing, moderate your language," murmured Bones.
Mr. Soames breathed heavily through his nose, thrust his hat on the
back of his head, and, without another word, strode from the office,
and they heard the door slam behind him. Bones and Hamilton exchanged
glances; then Bones picked up the cheque from the desk and slowly tore
it up. He seemed to spend his life tearing up expensive cheques.
"What is it, Bones? What the dickens did you do?" asked the puzzled
Hamilton.
"Dear old Ham," said Bones solemnly, "it was a little scheme--just a
little scheme. Sit down, dear old officer," he said, after a solemn
pause. "And let this be a warning to you. Don't put your money in
industries, dear old Captain Hamilton. What with the state of the
labour market, and the deuced ingratitude of the working classes, it's
positively heartbreaking--it is, indeed, dear old Ham."
And then and there he changed the whole plan and went out of
industrials for good.