oment," Cleggett interrupted, growing visibly angrier, and
seeming to enjoy his anger more and more. "Just a word more. I had
intended to conclude my remarks by telling you that my contempt for
YOU, personally, is unbounded. It is boundless, sir! But since you
have sworn at me, I am forced to conclude this interview in another
fashion."

And with a gesture which was not devoid of dignity Cleggett drew from
an upper waistcoat pocket a card and flung it on Wharton's desk. After
which he stepped back and made a formal bow.

Wharton looked at the card. Bewilderment almost chased the anger from
his face.

"Eh," he said, "what's this?"

"My card, sir! A friend will wait on you tomorrow!"

"Tomorrow? A friend? What for?"

Cleggett folded his arms and regarded the managing editor with a touch
of the supercilious in his manner.

"If you were a gentleman," he said, "you would have no difficulty in
understanding these things. I have just done you the honor of
challenging you to a duel."

Mr. Wharton's mouth opened as if he were about to explode in a roar of
incredulous laughter. But meeting Cleggett's eyes, which were, indeed,
sparkling with a most remarkable light, his jaw dropped, and he turned
slightly pale. He rose from his chair and put the desk between himself
and Cleggett, picking up as he did so a long pair of shears.

"Put down the scissors," said Cleggett, with a wave of his hand. "I do
not propose to attack you now."

And he turned and left the managing editor's little office, closing the
door behind him.

The managing editor tiptoed over to the door and, with the scissors
still grasped in one hand, opened it about a quarter of an inch.
Through this crack Wharton saw Cleggett walk jauntily towards the
corner where his hat and coat were hanging. Cleggett took off his worn
office jacket, rolled it into a ball, and flung it into a waste paper
basket. He put on his street coat and hat and picked up the
drab-colored cane. Swinging the stick he moved towards the door into
the hall. In the doorway he paused, cocked his hat a trifle, turned
towards the managing editor's door, raised his hand with his pipe in it
with the manner of one who points a dueling pistol, took careful aim at
the second button of the managing editor's waistcoat, and clucked. At
the cluck the managing editor drew back hastily, as if Cleggett had
actually presented a firearm; Cleggett's manner was so rapt and fatal
that it carri