Andrew still stared darkly.
"You'd rather have it war than peace?"
"I had rather conclude this conversation as soon as possible."
Heriot looked at him for a moment, and then shook his head with a smile compounded of sorrow and humor.
"You're a hopeless case," said he. "Well, your blood be on your own head!"
Andrew's lip grew longer and longer.
"I admit you've made a fool of me," he said, "if that's any satisfaction. But you'll make nothing out of me; not a shilling, not a halfpenny. Do you hear?"
"Is that all?"
"Practically; but I may just as well point out, to let you see where you stand, that as you have now done your worst, there's no use trying on blackmail or anything of that kind. You have been so very clever, you've thrown away any hold you might fancy you had. Do you quite understand that?"
Heriot began to smile again, and Andrew's face grew grimmer.