“My dear Mr. Nelligan,” replied Massingbred, with all the quiet ease of an unruffled temper, “I have not a single friend here, except yourself, upon whom I could call in such an emergency. I am utterly unknown in these parts; my very name unheard of before my arrival. If I did by any unhappy circumstance find myself in such an involvement as you speak of, I solemnly assure you my first thought would be to address myself to Mr. Nelligan.”
The easy impertinence of this speech would have been perfectly successful a short time previous, when Nelligan yet believed in the close friendship with his son. It came now, however, too late, and the old man listened to it with something bordering on anger.
“Good and sufficient bail, sir,—yourself and two others,” repeated he, slowly, and moving towards the door.
“One word, I pray,” said Jack, rising, and speaking with more earnestness and apparently with more sincerity. “I do not ask you any details as to the circumstances you impute to me, but perhaps you would, as a favor, tell me how this information has reached you?”
“I will not, sir,” was the abrupt reply.
“I am sure no friend of mine could have—”
“It is no use, Mr. Massingbred; all your address will avail you nothing. You shall not cross-examine me!”
“You must, however, see, sir,” said Massingbred, “that unknown and unfriended as I am here, bail is out of the question.”
“The Bench will hear anything you desire to say on that subject,” said Nelligan, coldly. “Good-morning to you.”
And with these words he left the room, and descended into the street.