"Well, I'm a working man," said the carpenter, "and we're not much in love with this Capitalist Government. Hello, here's the Marquess of Sydney back again with—look," he pointed with his pipe stem. "That's John Brand!"
"Brand, you say?" The Colonel half choked with excitement, "point him out quick. Is that really Brand himself? Why, damme!"
Brand and Lord Sydney were talking in low tones, earnestly, as they passed through the lanes of trees.
"My dear Brand, it's too horrible," said the Guardsman, "you never could hold the reins through such a crisis. There must be some other way."
"There is only one other way. Get back the Russian papers. I must have those papers, I must publish them word for word, then leave the people to judge."
"I have tried. Can't you believe that I've tried to get them, Brand?"
"I couldn't blame you, Sydney, if you refused your help. I know what it means to you."
"To rob my father, to betray him to his enemies, to hand him over to justice, then to be Duke of Ulster afterwards in his place, and bribe thieves and prostitutes to shake hands with me—the leper. I know what it means, and I have not turned back."
"Give it up, Sydney, leave it to me, and let me get the papers."
"First spy, then coward, I must sneak, and then run away?"