"If you care to do so."
"I have some facts—very sad and sorrowful ones. You may or may not know them—at least not all. But you should know them, Mr. Birtwell."
There was no escape now.
"You half frighten me, Mr. Elliott. What are you driving at?"
"I need not refer," said the clergyman, "to the cases of Archie Voss and Mr. Ridley."
Mr. Birtwell raised his hands in deprecation.
"Happily," continued Mr. Elliott, "Mr. Ridley has risen from his fall, and now stands firmer, I trust, than ever, and farther away from the reach of temptation, resting not in human but in divine strength. Archie is in heaven, where before many days his mother will join him."
"Why are you saying this?" demanded Mr. Birtwell. "You are going too far." His face had grown a little pale.
"I say it as leading to something more," replied the clergyman. "If there had been no more bitter fruit than this, no more lives sacrificed, it would have been sad enough. But—"
"Sir, you are trifling," exclaimed Mr. Birtwell, starting from his chair. "I cannot admit your right to talk to me in this way."