"The Countess of Seyton. True; but her ladyship has deputed me to confer with you on the business mentioned in your note."
"I shall have nothing to say to you," he replied abruptly, and turned to leave the room. Mr. Flint had shut, and was standing with his back to the door.
"You can't go," he said, in his coolest manner. "The police are within call."
"The police! What the devil do you mean?" cried Chilton, angrily; but, spite of his assurance, visibly trembling beneath Flint's searching, half-sneering look.
"Nothing very remarkable," replied that gentleman, "or unusual in our profession. Come, sit down; we are lawyers; you are a man of business, we know. I dare say we shall soon understand each other."
Mr. Chilton sat down, and moodily awaited what was next to come.
"You are aware," said Mr. Flint, "that you have rendered yourself liable to transportation?"
"What"' exclaimed Chilton, flashing crimson, and starting to his feet. "What!"
"To transportation," continued my imperturbable partner, "for seven, ten, fourteen years, or for life, at the discretion of the judge; but, considering the frequency of the crime of late, I should say there is a strong probability that you will be a lifer!"
"What devil's gibberish is this?" exclaimed Chilton, frightened, but still fierce. "I can prove everything I have said. Mr. Gosford, I tell you"—