His cousin blamed himself
for the change in their personal relations, and he meant to bring
things back to the old basis if he could.
It was past office hours, but a light in the window of the junior
member's private office gave promise that James might be in.
Leaving the elevator at the fourth floor, he walked down the
corridor toward the suite occupied by the firm.
Before he reached the door Jeff stopped. Something unusual was
happening within. There came to him the sounds of shuffling feet,
of furniture being smashed, of an angry oath. Almost at once there
was a thud, as if something heavy had fallen. The listener judged
that a live body was thrashing around actively. The impact of
blows, a heavy grunt, a second stifled curse, decided Farnum.
Pushing through the outer office, he entered the one usually
occupied by James.
Two men were on the floor, one astride of the other. The man on
top was driving home heavy jarring blows against his opponent's
face and head. Jeff ran forward and dragged him away.
"Good heavens, Sam! What's the matter?" his friend demanded in
surprise.
Miller waited panting, his fists still doubled, the lust of battle
in his eyes.
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