“You know what occurred at Chippinge before the election?”
“None better. I was there.”
“And what passed between Sir Robert Vermuyden and me?” Vaughan continued, eagerly.
“I think I do,” Wetherell answered. “In the main I do.”
“Thank you, Sir Charles. Then I appeal to you. You are opposed to me in politics, but you will do me justice. These gentlemen have thought fit to brand me here and now as a turncoat; and, worse, as one who was—who was elected”—he could scarcely speak for passion—“in opposition to Sir Robert’s, to my relative’s candidates, under circumstances dishonourable to me!”
“Indeed? Indeed? That is serious.”
“And I ask you, sir, is there a word of truth in that charge?”
Wetherell had his eyes fixed gloomily on the pavement. He appeared to weigh the matter a moment or two. Then he shook his head.
“Not a word,” he said, ponderously.
“You—you bear me out, sir.”