“I perceive, Sir Brook, that it is useless to prolong this conversation. Your old grudge against me is too much even for your good sense. Your dislike surmounts your reason. Yes, open the door at once. I am tired waiting for you,” cried he, impatiently, as the turnkey's voice was heard without.
“Once more I make you this offer,” said Fossbrooke, rising from his seat. “Think well ere you refuse it.”
“You have no such document as you say.”
“If I have not, the failure is mine.”
The door was now open, and the turnkey standing at it.
“They will accept bail, won't they?” said Sewell, adroitly turning the conversation. “I think,” continued he, “this matter can be easily arranged. I will go at once to the Head Office and return here at once.”
“We are agreed, then?” said Fossbrooke, in a low voice.
“Yes,” said Sewell, hastily, as he passed out and left him.
The turnkey closed and locked the door, and overtook Sewell as he walked along the corridor. “They are taking information this moment, sir, about the prisoner. The informer is in the room.”
“Who is he? What's his name?”