“This, my lord,” answered Mr. Caryll, and he quoted: “'The man that once did sell the lion's skin while the beast lived, was killed with hunting him. Remember that!”'
They looked at him, impressed by the ringing voice in which he had spoken-a voice in which the ring was of mingled mockery and exultation. Then her ladyship shook off the impression, and laughed.
“With what d'ye threaten us?” she asked contemptuously.
“I—threaten, ma'am? Nay, I am incapable of threatening. I do not threaten. I have reasoned with you, exhorted you, shown you cause why, had you one spark of decency left, you would allow me to depart and shield me from the law you have invoked to ruin me. I have hoped for your own sakes that you would be moved so to do. But since you will not—” He paused and shrugged. “On your own heads be it.”
“On our own heads be what?” demanded Rotherby.
But Mr. Caryll smiled, and shook his head. “Did you know all, it might indeed influence your decision; and I would not have that happen. You have chosen, have you not, Rotherby? You will sell me; you will hang me—me, your father's son. Poor Rotherby! From my soul I pity you!”
“Pity me? Death! You impudent rogue! Keep your pity for those that need it.”
“That is why I offer it you, Rotherby,” said Mr. Caryll, almost sadly. “In all my life, I have not met a man who stood more sorely in need of it, nor am I ever like to meet another.”
There was a movement without, a tap at the door; and Humphries entered to announce Mr. Green's return, accompanied by Mr. Second Secretary Templeton, and without waiting for more, he ushered them into the room.