I am sorry to say Mr. Sant went the whole length of the expression.
“Your parish,” said Joshua, viciously, “has postponed its cleansing six years. A couple of days longer won’t spoil it.”
“It would spoil my conscience in my own eyes, Mr. Pilbrow. I do not compound a felony, now I know of it, for an hour.”
“Then go at once, sir, to be consistent, and, to satisfy your conscience, defraud this orphan, your pupil, of his just indemnification.”
The clergyman rose to his feet.
“Indemnification? For what, sir?” he said, very sternly.
“For the loss of his fortune, of his father, sir,” said Joshua, as resolutely; “who, to vindicate the truth, died and left him bankrupt of his legitimate expectations.”
Uncle Jenico, shifting nervously in his seat, put in a pacifying word. The truth is, the dear old fellow had been in a suppressed state of excitement ever since our visitor’s first dark allusion to his mission on these coasts had begun to shadow itself out into some form and substance.
“Sant,” he said, “I think you must be reasonable. We don’t stand first in this matter. The treasure——”
“Nonsense!” interrupted the clergyman loudly. “Do you credit a word of the stuff!”