'Can you make anything that's satisfactory to you out of that ?' McKeith turned, Harris thought he was going to leap upon him in a fit of blind fury, and started up from his seat by the office table.
McKeith's eyes blazed, his taut sinews quivered; his face was now quite pallid, and the hand in which he held the piece of paper was clenched so tight that the veins stood out like thick cords, and the knuckles were perfectly bloodless.
But suddenly the pitch on his nerves was eased.

His eyelids dropped, and when he lifted them, the eyes were quiet and intently observant.
He moved into his usual office chair.
'Sit down again, won't you, Harris ?' he said, and Harris resumed his former place.
'What were you asking ?' McKeith continued.

'Satisfactory to me is it?
Yes, perfectly satisfactory, thank you....

I'm only amused--as you see...

to find that I was quite right in my suspicions.' And he laughed in what Harris thought a very odd way.
'Eh?
I don't take your meaning.' Harris' manner was distinctly objectionable.
McKeith gave him a sharp look, and his teeth went over his under lip.
Then, to the man's evident surprise, he laughed again, throwing his head back so that the muscles of his throat showed under his beard, working, as it were, automatically.