b'8LISA E. BETZTake a seat and lets talk like gentlemenassuming you are capable of behaving like one.Fury roared in his ears, but he clenched his jaw and dropped onto the open stool. A gentleman would face me at my house rather than lurking in Suburan taverns. Only brave enough to insult me where no one will hear? The intruder curled his lip. We are long past insults, you cor-rupt son of a jackal. No wonder you lurk in these dung-infested streets; its where you belong.Careful, or you will give me cause to sue you for insulting my dignitas.You have none to insult. You are a murderer and a thief.Strong accusations.But true. Naso discovered you were cheating him, didnt he? So he had to die. An accident, or so it seemed. Only he told me of his suspicions before he died, so I began to watch the accounts closely. When I had incontrovertible proof that money had gone missing, I confronted the dishonest clerk. He swears the money goes to you.A pack of lies.I dont think so. I also found this. His enemy held up an old coin.Rage swirled in the mans gut. He disguised it as indignation. Whose word do you trust, mine or my clerks? The scoundrel is lying. Give me one week and Ill prove it.The intruder pushed to his feet. Very well. You have one week before I take this to the authorities and expose you for the dishonorable piece of donkey dung you really are. The man watched his enemy go, almost blinded by the rage that coursed through his veins. When he could see straight again, he strode from the tavern to seek out an old acquaintance who could solve this problem. For a fee.'