"That I cannot; but I think I am sufficiently backed up now to make terms with him."
"I wish you could carry the war into the enemy's country, but that without witnesses would be impossible," returned Glynn. "Make the best terms you can. I agree with you in thinking that no amount of wealth could atone for shocking and grieving Elsie."
"Nothing could!" ejaculated Lambert. "And suppose I am hanged, will you be true to my darling?"
"Yes, even if I believed you guilty of murder, I would stick to her!"
Lambert seized and pressed his hand, and after a moment's silence resumed:
"I'll go and sleep at my own place to-night; it's nearer the Great Northern, and I'll start off to-morrow morning. Maybe I'll be lucky, hey?" He pulled out Elsie's last letter and read it through in silence. "She is happy anyway, but she's wearying for her old dad! God bless her! God bless her, and watch over her!"—with a burst of feeling. "The blessing of a vagabond like myself isn't worth much, but there it is. Maybe but for me she'd be a great lady now, and holding her own in the sight of all men."
"And perhaps but for you she would be in her grave, or struggling in poverty and degradation," said Glynn.
"Who can tell?" rejoined the other, and he left the room to prepare for his return to his own abode.
"I'll not write to you, Glynn," were his last words at starting; "I'll just come straight back and tell you everything."
"Do; and remember that the bolder front you can show, the greater the chance of his yielding. Speak as if you had a cloud of witnesses to back you."