"What's your name?" he asked gruffly.
Stranleigh smiled. "I have paid for the privilege of asking questions myself," he said gently.
"I conduct my business in my own way," snapped the lawyer.
"So do I." Stranleigh beamed upon him with the utmost good nature, which seemed to exasperate the man, who flung the sovereign down on the table.
"Take back your money," he roared, "and get out of this office. I refuse to speak with a man who dare not give his name. Come, get through that door."
Stranleigh laughed aloud.
"The farmer was right," he said at length. "You are a beast."
"What farmer said that?"
"Any farmer who knows you will say it. I am a farmer. I raise the best pigs in England. I know the nature of pigs, and they are gentlemen compared with you. Now, you can fling down your money as you like. It doesn't belong to me. It's yours. What does belong to me, however, is four hours of your time, and at the present moment you are wasting my property."
The solicitor glared at him for a few moments in speechless wrath, then he said more calmly:
