“Went into it yourself?” Mr. Dowling repeated, incredulously.  “What do you mean, Tavernake?  What do you mean, sir?”

“I mean that I have invested my savings in the purchase of several plots of land upon this hillside,” Tavernake explained.

“On your own account?” Mr. Dowling demanded.  “Your savings, indeed!”

“Certainly,” Tavernake answered.  “Why not?”

“But it’s the firm’s business, sir—­the firm’s, not yours!”

“The firm had the opportunity,” Tavernake pointed out, “and were not inclined to avail themselves of it.  If I had not bought the land when I did, some one else would have bought the whole of it long ago.”

Mr. Dowling was obviously in a furious temper.

“Do you mean to tell me, sir,” he exclaimed, “that you dared to enter into private speculations while still an employee of the firm?  It is a most unheard-of thing, unwarranted, ridiculous.  I shall require you, sir, to at once make over the plots of land to us—­to the firm, you understand.  We shall give you your price, of course, although I expect you paid much more for it than we should have done.  Still, we must give you what you paid, and four per cent interest for your money.”

“I am sorry,” Tavernake replied, “but I am afraid that I should require better terms than that.  In fact,” he continued, “I do not wish to sell.  I have given a great deal of thought and time to this matter, and I intend to carry it out as a personal speculation.”

“Then you will carry it out, sir, from some other place than from within the walls of my office,” Mr. Dowling declared, furiously.  “You understand that, Tavernake?”

“Perfectly,” Tavernake answered.  “You wish me to leave you.  It is very unwise of you to suggest it, but I am quite prepared to go.”

“You will either resell me those plots at cost price, or you shall not set foot within the office again,” Mr. Dowling insisted.  “It is a gross breach of faith, this.  I never heard of such a thing in all my life.  Most unprofessional, impossible behavior!”

Tavernake showed no signs of anger—­he simply turned a little away.

“I shall not sell you my land, Mr. Dowling,” he said, “and it will suit me very well to leave your employ.  You appear,” he continued, “to expect some one else to do the whole of the work for you while you reap the entire profits.  Those days have gone by.  My business in the world is to make a fortune for myself, and not for you!”

“How dare you, sir!” Mr. Dowling cried.  “I never heard such impertinence in my life.”

“You haven’t done a stroke of work for five years,” Tavernake went on, unmoved, “and my efforts have supplied you with a fairly good income.  In future, those efforts will be directed towards my own advancement.”

Mr. Dowling turned back toward the car.

“Young man,” he said, “you can brazen it out as much as you like, but you have been guilty of a gross breach of faith.  I shall take care that the exact situation is made known in all responsible quarters.  You’ll get no situation with any firm with whom I am acquainted—­I can promise you that.  If you have anything more to say to Dowling, Spence & Company, let it be in writing.”