“Curses on him!” muttered Learmont.
“Ha! Ha!” laughed Britton. “I like him no more than yourself—I have much to lay at his door.”
“But to my question, Britton,” said Learmont, impatiently.
“Well, to your question—what care I what becomes of you? I have myself and myself only to look to, and you may go to the devil or anywhere else, for all that it matters to me.”
“Andrew Britton, once before I told you to beware. You may carry this matter so far that I may turn upon you, and find greater safety in a foreign land than here, and if I once determine upon such a step—”
“You will leave me to the hangman?”
“I will because you goad me to it.”
“And what is there to hinder me from doing the same thing?”
“You cannot! You have not the means nor the inclination. To accomplish such an object, you must come to me for a sum of money, which would be equivalent to proclaiming your intention at once, and thus my least danger would be your destruction—you understand me?”
“I do; and although there are two words to that bargain—pray in the name of all that’s honourable, what do you want me to do, squire?”