They were momentous enough to cause him to say reflectively now, as he watched the paper burn: "You might as well carry dynamite in your pocket as that." "You don't mind my coming to see you ?" Barry asked, in an anxious tone.
He could not afford to antagonize Byng; in any case, his heart was against doing so; though, like an Irishman, he had risked everything by his maladroit and ill-mannered attack a little while ago.
"I wanted to warn you, so's you could be ready when Fleming jumped in," Barry continued.
"No; I'm much obliged, Barry," was Byng's reply, in a voice where trouble was well marked, however.

"Wait a minute," he continued, as his visitor prepared to leave.

"Go into the other room"-- he pointed.

"Glue your ear to the door first, then to the wall, and tell me if you can hear anything--any word I say." Barry did as he was bidden.

Presently Byng spoke in a tone rather louder than in ordinary conversation to an imaginary interlocutor for some minutes.