‘Nay, I am sure Mr. Wallis was no spy,’ said Margaret.
‘Well, at all events, instead of reporting “All is barren,” as was hoped, ‘continued the antiquary, ‘he will have to speak of “milk and honey.” Upon my life, I believe I could have got him to sign our Profession of Faith if I had only pressed it; for by nature, however, warped by evil communications, he struck me as an honest man.’
‘Not only honest, but kind, uncle,’ observed Margaret gently.
‘He was very civil to you, I noticed,’ returned her uncle grimly. ‘I am sure you could have got him to sign. What a thorn it would have been in that scoundrel’s side if one of his lieutenants could have been seduced so far from his allegiance!’
When Mr. Erin said ‘that scoundrel’ he always meant Malone. It was not necessary for him—as in the case of the gentleman who had married three times, and was wont to observe, ‘When I say “my wife” I mean my first wife’—to explain whom he meant.
‘I don’t blame Mr. Wallis at all,’ said Margaret. ‘He came upon a disagreeable errand, in the interests of truth, and has frankly acknowledged himself to be in the wrong. The person I do feel indignant against is that horrid Mr. Talbot.’
‘“The man of letters,” as he called himself,’ remarked Mr. Erin contemptuously. ‘He never even asked to look at the manuscripts: I don’t believe he can read. What do you think of your young friend now?’ he inquired turning to William Henry.
‘Well, sir, I think he has made a fool of himself and knows it.’