"Ah!" said Chawner, "but I've got the note in my pocket! Jolland was seedy and asked me to take it for you, and I read it, and it was so nicely written that I thought I should like to keep it myself, and so I did—and here it is!"
And he drew out with great caution a piece of crumpled paper and showed it to the horrified old gentleman. "Don't snatch ... it's rude; there it is, you see: 'My dear Connie' ... 'yours ever, Dick Bultitude.' No, you don't come any nearer ... there, now it's safe.... Now what do you mean to do?"
"I—I don't know," said Paul, feeling absolutely checkmated. "Give me time."
"I tell you what I mean to do; I shall keep my eye on you, and directly I see you making ready to go to Grimstone, I shall get up first and take him this ... then you'll be done for. You'd better give in, really, Dickie!"
The note was too evidently genuine; Dick must have written it (as a matter of fact he had; in a moment of pique, no doubt, at some caprice of his real enslaver Dulcie's—but his fickleness brought fatal results on his poor father's undeserving head)—if this diabolical Chawner carried out his threats he would indeed be "done for"; he did not yet fully understand the other's motive, but he thought that he feared lest Paul, in declaring his own sorrows, might also accuse Tipping and Coker of acts of cruelty and oppression, which Chawner proposed to denounce himself at some more convenient opportunity; he hesitated painfully.
"Well?" said Chawner, "make up your mind; are you going to tell him, or not?"
"I must!" said Paul hoarsely. "I promise you I shall not bring any other names in ... I don't want to ... I only want to save myself—and I can't stand it any longer. Why should you stand between me and my rights in this currish way? I didn't know there were boys like you in the world, sir; you're a young monster!"
"I don't mean you to tell the Doctor anything at all," said Chawner. "I shall do what I said."
"Then do your worst!" said Paul, stung to defiance.