Beads of perspiration were rolling down from Joshua's bald crown.
"There'll be bloodshed, and Manxmen won't stand for that. They've been their own masters for a thousand years. The Governor can't treat them as if they were Indian coolies."
"What do you think ought to be done?"
"That's what I've come to say, Sir. I had gone to bed but I couldn't take rest, so I got Willie Dawson to drive me over. The people may be wrong about justice, but the only way to pacify them is to prove it."
"How?"
"The guilty man in this case must give himself up."
"Give himself up?"
Joshua took off his coloured spectacles and wiped the damp off them.
"I thought your Honour might know where he was. He can't be far away, Sir."
"Well?"