“I soon enough realized my blunder. The recipient of the letter—he is dead now—told me he had burnt it. It contained things I should be sorry to have everybody see.”
“But if it was burnt?”
“It wasn’t: there was trickery somewhere. And the letter is now in the possession of this Thornby. ’Tis the real letter—I recognized it. He will show it to the world if I provoke him. Till I can get it from him—and heaven knows how that is to be done: he is a cunning fellow, and on the qui vive—well, now you understand my meekness. He really has me at his mercy—hardly less than I have the Jacobite yonder at mine.”
From the window the gentlemen could see Everell and Georgiana strolling within the verge of the park. As Foxwell evinced no mind to say more about Thornby or the letter, but rather seemed to dismiss them with a sigh of disgust, Rashleigh took the cue for a change of subject.
“Will you really hand over the Jacobite, after all, Bob?”
“I haven’t thought much of that matter,” replied Foxwell. “I frankly didn’t expect him to choose as he did.”
“His time is coming to an end,” said Rashleigh. “You will soon have to decide.”
“Why, deuce take it, has he not decided for himself? What can I do but hand him over? Were I to let him go free, he would probably be caught, nevertheless: in the end I should be in trouble for having harboured him.”
“You’ll pardon me, of course, for introducing the subject. We’ve all avoided it, as you set the example of doing. But to-day Lady Strange was hoping that you could find it in your heart to let the young fellow go.”
“Oh, I could find it in my heart; but should I find it to my interest? Several possibilities have occurred to me, but they all seem attended by risk or inconvenience. The safest and easiest course is clearly to observe both the law and our agreement. The man Filson is still in the village. He seems to have an instinct that his prey is in the neighbourhood—nay, as he looked at me yesterday at church, I could almost imagine he suspected something. He has a clue, perhaps. He told Caleb he might be hereabouts for another fortnight. So you see—well, I can make up my mind at the last moment if need be—one can always toss a coin. ’Tis time we were changing our clothes.”