"Just that," he said.

"You've reached the limit." For a moment the dissipated youth surveyed his cousin, then an angry flush mounted into his pasty face.
"You--you--" he stuttered, "-- you go to hell." Without another word the elderly Cavendish summoned the waiter, paid the bill, and walked toward the door.

John stared after him, a smile of derision on his face.

He had heard Cavendish threaten before.
"Your cousin seemed peeved," suggested Miss La Rue.
"It's his nature," explained John.

"Got sore because I asked him for a mere hundred and threatened to cut off my income unless I quit you two." "You told him where to go," Miss La Rue said, laughing.