‘Thank you for nothing,’ John answered. ‘That’s my privilege without your leave or with it.’
‘It’s all true, is it?’ asked Polson, drearily.
‘Yes. It’s all true. But look here, Polson, when this fool’s out o’ the way we can make a fight for credit. It’s him as deserves to suffer, and it’s him as has got to suffer to begin with.’
‘Me!’ cried James. ‘Me that deserves to suffer? Who was it put the thing into my mind? Who was it that came time and time and time again to whisper into my ear, and tell me where I could find the men—and—and—and everything? Why curse you——!’
‘Look here,’ said John Jervase. ‘You’re a sidesman and a trustee, and the Lord alone knows what all. Be decent in your language.’
‘You made me your catspaw. You’ve left nothing to be traced to you if you could help it. You’ve thrust me into the mire so that you could walk over dry-shod.’
‘You’ve had your share of the spoil, haven’t you, you lean hypocrite?’ asked Jervase. ‘If you’ll only do as I bid you now I’ll pull you through.’
He had turned to address his cousin, and now he showed him a disdainful back, and came face to face with his son again.
‘What on earth are you doing there?’ he asked, after a minute’s watching.
For Polson was divesting himself of his heavy gold watch and chain, and rolling out gold and silver from his pockets, and pulling one or two handsome rings from his fingers, and laying them all upon the tablecloth before him with an extraordinary stolidity of manner.