“Would it not be better to defer this till after the inquest?” he whispered.
“Are ye certain o' findin' him when ye want him?” dryly remarked Sir Andrew.
The Chief Justice conferred for a few seconds with Meek apart, and then approaching Cashel, addressed him in a tone inaudible to all but himself,—
“It would be excessively painful to us, Mr. Roland Cashel, to do anything which should subject you to vulgar remark or impertinent commentary; and as, until some further light be thrown upon this sad catastrophe, your detention is absolutely necessary, may I ask that you will submit to this rigor, without compelling us to any measures to enforce it?”
“Am I a prisoner, my Lord?” asked Roland, growing lividly pale as he spoke.
“Not precisely, sir. No warrant has been issued against you; but as it is manifestly for your advantage to disprove any suspicions that may attach to you in this unhappy affair, I hope you will see the propriety of remaining where you are until they be entirely removed.”
Roland bowed coldly, and said,—
“May I ask to be left alone?”
“Of course, sir; we have neither the right nor the inclination to obtrude ourselves upon you. I ought to mention, perhaps, that if you desire to confer with any friends—”
“Friend!” echoed Cashel, in bitter derision; “such friends as I have seen around my table make the selection difficult.”