“Come, come, Browne; never mind the warrant. If he can find bail—say five hundred pounds—for his future appearance, we shall be satisfied.”
Browne, who never took his eyes from the paper, and seemed totally insensible to everything but the current of his own thoughts, now looked up, and fixing his dark and beetling look upon me, uttered in a deep, low tone,—
“You see, sir, the imminent danger of your present position, and at the same time the merciful leniency which has always characterized his Majesty's Government,—ahem! If, therefore, you will plead guilty to any transportable felony, the grand jury will find true bills—”
“You mistake, Browne,” said Cooke, endeavoring with his handkerchief to repress a burst of laughter; “we are going to take his bail.”
“Bail!” said the other, in a voice and with a look of amazement absolutely comic.
Up to this moment I had not broken silence, but I was unable to remain longer without speaking.
“I am quite ready, sir,” said I, resolutely, “to stand my trial for anything laid to my charge. I am neither ashamed of the opinions I profess, nor afraid of the dangers they involve.”
“You hear him, sir; you hear him,” said Barton, triumphantly, turning towards the Secretary, who bit his lip in disappointment, and frowned on me with a mingled expression of anger and warning. “Let him only proceed, and you 'll be quite satisfied, on his own showing, that he cannot be admitted to bail.”
“Bail!” echoed the Right Honorable, whose faculties seemed to have stuck fast in the mud of thought, and were totally unable to extricate themselves.
At the same moment, a gentle tap was heard at the door, and the porter entered with a card, which he delivered to the Secretary.