“Yes, yes!” said the master hoarsely.
Mr Roe obeyed, and disclosed the turf amid another general laugh, in which all but Railsford and Mr Bickers joined.
The latter had by this time lost his self-control. He glared round him like a baited animal, and then, rounding suddenly on Railsford, exclaimed, “This is your doing! You are at the bottom of this!”
Railsford vouchsafed no reply but a contemptuous shrug. He was in no humour to see the joke. Disgust was his one sensation.
“Order, please,” said the chairman. “These meetings, if they are to be of any value, must be conducted without any quarrelling. Mr Bickers, may we consider this unpleasant affair now at an end?”
“No!” shouted Mr Bickers. “I have been insulted! I don’t care by whom! The matter is not at an end—not till I have received an answer from this Railsford here to my question! Let him get up like a man and say he did not attack me like a coward last term, and allow the blame and suspicion to fall on others; let him even get up and declare that he does not know anything about the affair. I defy him to do it! He dare not!”
A silence followed this violent tirade, and everyone turned to Railsford. He sat, motionless and pale, with his eyes on his accuser.
“Have you anything to say, Mr Railsford, or shall we consider the matter at an end?”
“I have nothing to say,” said the Master of the Shell, sitting, “except that I refuse to answer these questions.”
“Very good! Quite right!” said monsieur, springing to his feet. “When Meester Beekaire can speak like a gentleman, he—”