"Come, come," said a working-man, "this violence will do no good, Parkinson. Be reasonable."
"If violence will do no good," retorted Mr. Parkinson, "still struggling, what will?"
"The truth," replied the working-man who had interposed.
"Ah, yes, the truth," said Mr. Parkinson; "and when that is told, let us have justice!"
"Spoken like a man," murmured some in the crowd.
"But what kind of justice?" demanded Mr. Parkinson. "A cold-blooded law court, with cold-blooded lawyers arguing this way and that, while those who have been brought to ruin and shame sit down with their wasted lives before them? No--not that kind of justice for me! I will have the life of the man who has cast this upon me! And that"--pointing with furious hand towards Mark Inglefield--"that is the monster I will have my justice upon, without appeal to lawyers!"
"I give you my word of honor," said Mark Inglefield, appealing to those by whom he was surrounded, and who hemmed him and Mr. Manners in, determined that they should not escape--"I give you my word of honor that I have not the least idea what this man means. I do not know him, nor any person belonging to him."
"You lie!" cried Mr. Parkinson.
"I speak the truth," said Mark Inglefield, perfectly calm. "This gentleman who has accompanied me here will testify to it. If I did not suspect that this man is not accountable for his words, I would not remain here another moment."
"But you must," said a friend of Mr. Parkinson; and, "Yes, you must, you must!" proceeded from others in the throng.