He began to think he had been rash in leaving his post in the Ontario town, but nerving himself with the reflection that he had a share in a silver vein, knocked at the door.
Somebody told him to come in, and he walked into a small room.
The dirty walls were hung with plans of building lots and surveys of the forest belt in Eastern Manitoba.

A glass partition ran up the middle and on one side Watson sat in front of a typewriter.

He looked at Drummond with surprise, but did not get up.
"Well," he said, "why have you come to town?
Have you got a week off, or have you got fired ?" "You ought to know what I've come about, but I want to see the boss," Drummond rejoined.
"That's easy, anyhow," said Watson, with a grin Drummond did not like, and indicated a door in the partition.
Drummond opened the door and saw Stormont sitting at a table covered with papers.

He looked up and nodded coolly.
"Hallo!" he said.

"Mr.Drummond, isn't it?
Sit down for a few minutes." Then picking up a letter, he knitted his brows.