"Wherefore, I presume," said Lewis Granger, "you have come here to pay me some of them. I should be rich--that is, rich for me--if I had all you owe me. All," he added emphatically, "that I hold your acknowledgment for."
"Oh! I protest, my friend----" exclaimed the other.
"Protest nothing. But, instead, remember. Recall two years ago. There is a sum of two thousand pounds for Glastonbury's bill; two thousand pounds, and my ruined life; for which latter I do not hold any acknowledgment, though, also, I do not forget."
And he regarded Bufton with so strange a glance that the visitor looked uneasy.
"Lewis," he said, "I have repented of that. You--you--know I have. And at my mother's death it will be paid. I can do no more," and he rubbed his chin as he spoke, which action, for some reason that Granger could not have explained, irritated him as much as ever. Perhaps it did so because it recalled other instances when he had sat and watched him doing the same thing.
"Then," continued Granger, he repeating with emphasis, "there is the bond for five thousand guineas--the marriage bond--the marriage bond. I worked hard in that matter----"
"Curse the marriage bond!" cried Bufton. "Curse it, and the marriage, and all concerned with it. That has sunk me, ruined me for ever. Oh! Lewis," he went on, "do you know what I live for now? Now! now!"
"Annulling it; breaking it, I imagine."
"No!" the other almost shrieked, "no! it cannot be broken; they say I am bound, tied for ever! No! it is not that, but vengeance on the cat who snared me, and--and--vengeance on the man who has married the true heiress. He insulted me in her park, he defeated me; me--I who knew every trick of fence; and he drove me forth. And I do believe he was aware of that scheme while, if he did not aid in it, he at least did not prevent it."
"You ruined Anne's sister, drove her to her death. You have much to answer for," Granger said, his voice hard and stern; so hard and stern that almost it would seem as if he were egging the man on to frenzy for a purpose.