"Then why, my lord, do you continue?"
"I must have some excuse for roaming the country," pleaded Jack. "I could not be idle."
"You are not—compelled to—er—rob, my lord?"
Carstares wrinkled his brow inquiringly.
"Compelled? Ah—I take your meaning. No, Warburton, I have enough for my wants—now; time was—but that is past. I rob for amusement's sake."
Warburton looked steadily across at him.
"I am surprised, my lord, that you, a Carstares, should find it—amusing."
John was silent for a moment, and when he at length spoke it was defiantly and with a bitterness most unusual in him.
"The world, Mr. Warburton, has not treated me so kindly that I should feel any qualms of conscience. But, an it gives you any satisfaction to know it, I will tell you that my robberies are few and far between. You spoke a little while ago of my probable—ah—fate—on Tyburn Tree. I think you need not fear to hear of that."
"I—It gives me great satisfaction, my lord, I confess," stammered the lawyer, and found nothing more to say. After a long pause he again produced the bulky roll of parchment and laid it down before the Earl with the apologetic murmur of: