“Yes. I sent a civil acceptance of the invitation of course, because I meant to sound him in the course of the evening about his votes. Now really, Sir Francis, you must let the ball be over before you come in with your charge of murder, and so on.”
“I will if your lordship pleases; but the property of Learmont, provided he be convicted of murder, will revert to the Crown, in which event you will have his votes.”
“Ah, but, my dear Sir Francis, the Crown, in common decency, must waive its right to the property in favour of the next of kin.”
“I believe there can arise no claimant,” said Sir Francis; “therefore there can be no delicacy on the subject.”
“Well that’s lucky—but you will let the ball be over. I’m told it’s to be a splendid affair, and really so many of our political friends intend to make it a complete rendezvous, that it would be a thousand pities not to let it go off with some éclat.”
“I shall, of course, not interfere, my lord; but should anything occur to force a magisterial duty, I trust your lordship will not expect me to shrink from performing mine.”
“Well, I suppose not, but don’t be provoking, Sir Francis, if you can possibly avoid it. By-the-by, I quite forgot to ask who he had murdered. It’s nobody of any consequence, I presume?”
“He certainly had no vote.”
“No vote?”
“No, nor was likely ever to have one.”