The Coat of Arms by Edgar Wallace — Read

There was trouble at the "Coat of Arms" that morning. Charles, the waiter, livid with rage, sought his employer in the little parlour behind the bar. He was a man between fifty and sixty, hard-faced, broad-shouldered and a little ugly--uglier now for the angry red mark on his face.

Lorney listened to the incoherent recital. "What else did you do?" he demanded.