Henchard said nothing; but going back he closed the stair hatchway, and stamped upon it so that it went tight into its frame; he next turned to the wondering young man, who by this time observed that one of Henchard’s arms was bound to his side.
“Now,” said Henchard quietly, “we stand face to face—man and man. Your money and your fine wife no longer lift ’ee above me as they did but now, and my poverty does not press me down.”
“What does it all mean?” asked Farfrae simply.
“Wait a bit, my lad. You should ha’ thought twice before you affronted to extremes a man who had nothing to lose. I’ve stood your rivalry, which ruined me, and your snubbing, which humbled me; but your hustling, that disgraced me, I won’t stand!”
Farfrae warmed a little at this. “Ye’d no business there,” he said.
“As much as any one among ye! What, you forward stripling, tell a man of my age he’d no business there!” The anger-vein swelled in his forehead as he spoke.
“You insulted Royalty, Henchard; and ’twas my duty, as the chief magistrate, to stop you.”
“Royalty be damned,” said Henchard. “I am as loyal as you, come to that!”
“I am not here to argue. Wait till you cool doon, wait till you cool; and you will see things the same way as I do.”
“You may be the one to cool first,” said Henchard grimly. “Now this is the case. Here be we, in this four-square loft, to finish out that little wrestle you began this morning. There’s the door, forty foot above ground. One of us two puts the other out by that door—the master stays inside. If he likes he may go down afterwards and give the alarm that the other has fallen out by accident—or he may tell the truth—that’s his business. As the strongest man I’ve tied one arm to take no advantage of ’ee. D’ye understand? Then here’s at ’ee!”