"I mean it must—it ought to. As I say, we've done our best to be generous; I defy any one to deny it. As it is, Mr. Wayne, I don't want to say a word that's uncivil. I hope it's not uncivil to say that you can be, and ought to be, in gaol. It is criminal to stop public works for a whim. A man might as well burn ten thousand onions in his front garden or bring up his children to run naked in the street, as do what you say you have a right to do. People have been compelled to sell before now. The King could compel you, and I hope he will."
"Until he does," said Wayne, calmly, "the power and government of this great nation is on my side and not yours, and I defy you to defy it."
"In what sense," cried Barker, with his feverish eyes and hands, "is the Government on your side?"
With one ringing movement Wayne unrolled a great parchment on the table. It was decorated down the sides with wild water-colour sketches of vestrymen in crowns and wreaths.
"The Charter of the Cities," he began.
Buck exploded in a brutal oath and laughed.
"That tomfool's joke. Haven't we had enough—"
"And there you sit," cried Wayne, springing erect and with a voice like a trumpet, "with no argument but to insult the King before his face."
Buck rose also with blazing eyes.
"I am hard to bully," he began—and the slow tones of the King struck in with incomparable gravity—