Fortunately there were not many Passers-by just then, and the little Scene remained unnoted by the idly curious, who are ever wont to collect in Crowds whenever anything strange to them happens to attract their Attention.
My Lord Stour was the first to recover Speech. He turned on Mr. Betterton with unbridled Fury.
"What!" he cried, "another sting from that venomous Wasp? I might have guessed that so miserable a Calumny came from such a vile Caitiff as this!"
"Abuse is not Explanation, my Lord," interposed the Duke of Albemarle firmly. "And I must remind you that you have left my Question unanswered."
"Put it more intelligibly, my Lord," retorted Lord Stour haughtily. "I might then know how to reply."
"Very well," riposted His Grace, still apparently unmoved. "I will put it differently. I understand that your Associates entrusted their treasonable Manifestos to you. Is that a fact?"
"I'll not deny it."
"You cannot," rejoined the Duke drily. "Sir James Campsfield, in the course of his Trial, admitted that he had received his Summons through You. But a Copy of that Manifesto came into the hands of my Lady Castlemaine just in time to cause the Conspiracy to abort. How was that?"
"Some Traitor," replied Lord Stour hotly, "of whom I have no Cognizance."
"Yet it was You," riposted the General quietly, "who received a free Pardon ... no one else. How was that?" he reiterated more sternly.