And that—that"—he struck the picture in the newspaper furiously with his hand—"that wins! See the plans—read the description! No architect, no intelligent, unbiased layman could pass that! The architect on that committee stood alone—the others! God knows what prompted the others!"
"Stewart!" His wife's voice rang sharply on his ears. She rose from her place and stood with angry spots flushing her cheeks, with eyes darting an unaccustomed, scathing light. "I will not hear such things from you. I will not stay in the room where they are said."
As she went out of the door he said viciously,—
"Yes, it needs only you to turn against me."
Then she stopped in the doorway and looked at him in silent scorn. The look did him no good; and he did not follow her up the stairs. Instead, he went downtown, possessed by a furious impulse to visit his office and rend and burn all the notes, drawings, and books which related in any way to the work he had done for the competition. He was rushing past the Halket Building when he came face to face with Floyd, who was about to enter.
The meeting turned Stewart from his purpose.
"I should like to have a few words with you," he said.
"Come up," Floyd answered.
When they entered the outer office of the Halket Company, Floyd signed to the clerk who was sitting there to withdraw. Then he offered Stewart a chair; but Stewart ignored it and stood some distance away from Floyd in the middle of the room.
"I see you have announced your award," he observed.
"Yes. I'm sorry the plans we chose turned out not to be yours."
"You wished to give the buildings to an Avalon architect—and you did not wish to give them to me. With those two conditions, it was easy to pick the winner."
"Stewart, if you mean to insinuate—"
