Sir Bale looked at him, not knowing whether to believe his eyes and ears. He did not know what to make of him.
"I had intended speaking to you in a conciliatory way; you seem to wish to make that impossible"—Philip Feltram's face wore its repulsive smile;—"and in fact I don't know what to make of you, unless you are ill; and ill you well may be. You can't have walked much less than twelve miles."
"Wonderful effort for me!" said Feltram with the same sneer.
"Rather surprising for a man so nearly drowned," answered Sir Bale Mardykes.
"A dip: you don't like the lake, sir; but I do. And so it is: as Antaeus touched the earth, so I the water, and rise refreshed."
"I think you'd better get in and refresh there. I meant to tell you that all the unpleasantness about that bank-note is over."
"Is it?"
"Yes. It has been recovered by Mr. Creswell, who came here last night. I've got it, and you're not to blame," said Sir Bale.
"But some one is to blame," observed Mr. Feltram, smiling still.
"Well, you are not, and that ends it," said the Baronet peremptorily.