But as the archdeacon really meant by resigning, he could not answer the question, and the interview ended in Lindo roundly declaring, as he walked up and down the room, “I will not resign! Understand that, archdeacon! I will not resign! If Lord Dynmore can put me out, well and good—let him. If not, I stay. He may be just or generous,” continued the young man scornfully—“all I know is that he insulted me grossly, and as no gentleman would have insulted another.”
“He is passionate, and was taken by surprise,” the archdeacon ventured to say. But Lindo would not listen; and his visitor had presently to go, fearing that he had done more harm than good by his mediation. As for the rector, he was severely scolded later in the evening by Jack Smith for having omitted to lay the letters offering him the living before the archdeacon, or to explain to him the precise circumstances under which he had accepted it.
“But he said he did not doubt me,” the rector urged rather fractiously.
“Pooh! that is not the point,” the barrister retorted. “Of course he does not. He knows you. But I want to put him in possession of such a case as he may lay before others who do not know you. Look here, you are acquainted with a man called Felton, are you not?”
“Yes,” Lindo answered, with a slight start.
“Well, perhaps you are not aware that he has been to Lord Dynmore—so the tale runs in the town, and I know it is true—and stated that you have been for weeks bribing him to keep the secret.”
The rector sat motionless, staring at his friend. “I did not know it,” he said at last, quite quietly. He was becoming accustomed to surprises of this kind. “It is a wicked lie, of course.”
“Of course,” Jack assented tossing one leg easily over the other, and thrusting his hands deep into his trousers’ pockets. “But what do you say to it?”
“The man came to me,” Lindo answered steadily, “and told me that he was Lord Dynmore’s servant, and that, crossing from America, he had foolishly lost his money at play. He begged me to assist him until Lord Dynmore’s return, and I did so. Some ten days ago I discovered that he was leading a disreputable life, and I stopped the allowance.”
“Thanks,” said Jack, nodding his head. “That is precisely what I thought. But the mischief of it is, you see, that the man’s tale may be true in his eyes. He may have believed that he was blackmailing you. And therefore, since we cannot absolutely refute his story, it is the more important that we should show as good a case as possible aliunde. Nor does it make any difference,” Jack continued drily, “that the man, after seeing Lord Dynmore last night, has taken himself quietly off this morning.”