“And there is nothing to hinder you from helping along any scheme to reach him.”
“In other words, you will do the brain-work and I will be your tool?”
“No, no, no! Why do you put it that way? Have I not in the past always been ready enough to strike when I could? My time is past. If I make another open move that fellow will expose me, and out of Yale I’ll have to go. But I can’t do anything if I would.”
Roland eyed the decanter.
“Do you keep that stuff to look at?” he asked.
“No, of course not—but you—I thought you——”
“Don’t say anything nasty now, Defarge. I’m not drunk, but I am mighty dry. I can talk better if my throat is oiled a little.”
“Help yourself,” invited Bertrand, rising to place the glasses and decanter nearer his visitor.
Packard’s hand shook a little as he poured out a brimming glass of whisky. Defarge shrugged his shoulders again as he noticed this, and went over to a sideboard, from which he brought a pitcher of ice-water. Defarge poured a very little of the liquor for himself, mixing it with double the amount of water.
“Here’s hoping you’ll have better luck,” said Packard, lifting his glass.