"Has he told you that?"

"Yes."

"So, although foreman of the jury, you have not declined to hobnob with
a man who is avowedly Mr. Grant's enemy?"

"I would hobnob with worse people if, by so doing, I might serve you."

Grant, "fed up," as he put it to Hart, with watching the _tête à tête_
between Doris and the chemist, sprang to his feet and went through a
pantomime easy enough to follow save for one or two signs. Doris held
both hands aloft. Well knowing that anything in the nature of a
pre-arranged code would be gall and wormwood to Siddle, she explained
laughingly:

"Mr. Grant signals that he and Mr. Hart are going for a walk; he wants me
to accompany them. But I can't, unfortunately. I promised dad to help
with the accounts."

"If you really mean what you say, my warning would seem to have fallen on
deaf ears."

Siddle's voice was well under control, but his eyes glinted dangerously.
His state was that of a man torn by passion who nevertheless felt that
any display of the rage possessing him would be fatal to his cause.

But, rather unexpectedly, Doris took fire. Siddle's innuendoes and
protestations were sufficiently hard to bear without the added knowledge