The worried expression deepened on Mr. Lewis' face.
"The fact is," Hollister continued evenly, "I made a rough survey of
that timber, and found it away off color. You represented it to
contain so many million feet. It doesn't. Nowhere near. I appear to
have been rather badly stung, and I really don't wonder it hasn't been
resold. What do you propose to do about this?"
Mr. Lewis made a gesture of deprecation.
"There must be some mistake, Mr. Hollister."
"No doubt of that," Hollister agreed dryly. "The point is, who shall
pay for the mistake?"
Mr. Lewis looked out of the window. He seemed suddenly to be stricken
with an attitude of remoteness. It occurred to Hollister that the man
was not thinking about the matter at all.
"Well?" he questioned sharply.
The eyes of the specialist in timber turned back to him uneasily.
"Well?" he echoed.
Hollister put the documents in his pocket. He gathered up those on the
desk and put them also in his pocket. He was angry because he was
baffled. This was a matter of vital importance to him, and this man
seemed able to insulate himself against either threat or suggestion.
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