“Isn’t he prisoner instead of us?”
“Yes, that’s true!”
“And hasn’t he proved your innocence and his own guilt before those officers?”
“Yes, he has done that!” said West, with his puckered face smoothing out.
“Then just confess that you are a growling, discontented, hard-to-satisfy young humbug.”
“I do—frankly!” cried West, laughing outright.
“Come, that’s something; and I begin to think that I will forgive you and stick to you after all, instead of following out my own ideas.”
“Your own ideas?” said West, looking at his companion enquiringly. “What were those?”
“Well,” said Ingleborough, in his dry stolid manner; “Shakespeare was a very able man.”
“My dear Ingle,” cried West, staring, “whatever has Shakespeare got to do with your plans?”