"Murder! who talks of murder?" he rejoined. "If it were any other man than the son of my Lord President, I could have him hanged. But what poor man dare give evidence against him? Curse him. What lawyer in the isle or county will undertake my case? When justice is not to be had by the law, we have a right to take it. If God or devil would give me the use of my limbs, but for a single day, I would take it."
The passion of the old man lent him strength, and he drew himself up, almost erect, a fearsome sight.
But in a moment he drooped again, and moaned, and I sat silent beside him.
Then rousing himself he said, "Hast milk in thy veins instead of blood? Canst not hate the man who killed thy friend—not man to man in honest fight, but by a dastard word to his villains?"
"God knows I hate him only too well," I replied.
"Dost, Frank, dost? God bless thee for that. Meet him, taunt him, make him draw on thee, shoot at thee; force a quarrel on him somehow, and kill him! kill him!—kill him as slowly as thou canst, so it be sure."
He put his trembling hand on my knee, and thrust his face near to mine, his eyes blazing under their bushes of dead-white hair.
"Swear it, Frank," he begged. "Swear it, and I shall die happy. Happy!" he groaned, in mockery of his own word. "Nay, don't speak yet," he said. "Listen to me. Thy father is wasting his patrimony on law and lawyers. 'Twill do no good. When did it ever do good to spend money so? But don't let that trouble thee. If thou'lt be a son to me so far as to do justice on the man that murdered Will, the Grange shall be thine, and many a good mortgage besides. Shalt be a rich man, young Vavasour."
Up to this point, I confess that the old man had been so near gaining the ascendancy over me, that I might have made him some sort of promise of vengeance on his enemy, but this offer broke the fascination.
"Your grief has maddened you, Mr. Staniforth, or you would not bribe me to do murder."