Once in the library, the traits which so endeared Vertnor Ashley to himself, and eke to others, were amply in evidence. He was gentle, deferential, thoroughly straightforward and frank, albeit he saw the subject was a mortification to Judge Roscoe and abated his sense of his own dignity; still Ashley gave no offence.
"I understand. It was a matter of conscience with Captain Baynell," said Judge Roscoe, seeking to dispose of the question in few words. "I can have no displeasure against a man for obeying the dictates of his own conscience, as every man must."
"Well, I am happy to say I had no conscience in the matter," said Colonel Ashley.
"Dear me!" exclaimed Mrs. Gwynn, with her curt, low, icy tone. "We have indeed fallen on evil times. Captain Baynell has conscience enough to destroy us all, if only he sees fit. And Colonel Ashley, by his own admission, has no conscience at all. Between the two we must come to grief."
"It seems to me a trifle," Ashley persisted smilingly, "brought to my attention accidentally on a hospitable occasion. For aught I knew, you might have a permit, or the horse might have been a condemned animal, unsound, thus escaping the requisition. I had no orders to investigate your domestic affairs, nor to search for animals evading the impress. The men detailed to that duty are presumed to be capable of discharging it."
"I assure you we have no feeling on that account—no antagonism—" began Judge Roscoe.
"I desire you to realize that nothing would have induced me to report the presence of the horse here," Ashley interrupted; "though," he added, checking himself, "I do not wish to reflect on Captain Baynell's procedure!"
"He thought himself justified, indeed obligated," interposed Judge Roscoe.
"Of course I greatly regretted the necessity, which seemed forced on me, as I saw the matter," said Baynell.
"I fully appreciate that you take a different view," began Ashley.