"Neither one nor the other, my lord," answered the prisoner; "but if I do make any confession at all, which will depend upon your lordship's conduct, I intend to state that the robbery was first suggested to me by the following letter, written to me by your lordship's lawyer on your account, in order to persuade me to delay or carry off a sum of money which my master was to receive through the hands of the old man at Ryebury."
Lord Ashborough turned deadly pale; and taking a step forward, while he advanced his hand toward the paper which Harding held, he exclaimed, "Let me see, sir--Let me see!"
"Your pardon, my lord!" said the prisoner, drawing back the paper. "One does not usually give such valuable documents out of one's own hand. I will read it to you, however;" and in a calm, sustained voice, he proceeded to treat the ears of Lord Ashborough, sentence by sentence, with the whole of that letter which had been formerly written to him by Mr. Peter Tims, in regard to the money which Beauchamp had expected from London, to pay off the annuity on Sir Sidney Delaware's estate. "Your lordship will see," continued the prisoner, "that such a letter was very well calculated to induce me to commit a robbery; you will see, also, that Mr. Tims uses your lordship as his authority throughout; and I look upon myself as extremely lucky in having always preserved this letter in the lining of my waistcoat, as it now gives me the hope that so highly respected and honorable a nobleman as yourself may interest himself in my favor."
Now, in Lord Ashborough's mind, there was a great portion of that very same principle which had led Beauchamp to make the most uncompromising declaration of his purposes toward Blanche Delaware, as soon as he found that his uncle held out a threat upon the subject. Or, as the matter would be explained in one word by the phrenologists--who, if they have discovered nothing else, have at least, by the clearness of their definitions and their classification of human passions, rendered great services to moral philosophy--Lord Ashborough had no small development of combativeness in his brain; and the very idea of being bullied by a felon into demanding the royal mercy for a murderer, without one plausible motive to allege, instantly armed him to resist, though at the same time he felt terribly the additional wound his character might receive from such a paper being published as that which Harding had read.
"You are mistaken, sir," he replied, sternly. "You are entirely mistaken in your anticipations. That letter was totally unauthorized by me; and the rascal who wrote it, for that and several similar acts has been dismissed from my employment."
Harding heard him with the same cool smile, and then replied, "Your lordship's memory is short, I know; but luckily I can refresh it, for Mr. Tims has favored me only last night with this authentic and original copy of the letter, containing numerous corrections and improvements in your lordship's own handwriting."
Lord Ashborough saw that the day was lost, and that his discarded agent had triumphed. He had not committed himself in regard to the Delawares, it is true; but he had committed himself hopelessly in regard to the very man who now stood before him a convicted felon; and he felt that the reputation, of which he was proud just in proportion as he little deserved it, was gone forever. He made no reply, however; but with a slight, and--as Harding fancied--scornful movement of the lip, he turned suddenly toward the door, struck it sharply with his hand, and exclaimed "Open the door, turnkey! Open the door!"
It was instantly thrown wide to give him exit--but Lord Ashborough never went out! The one word, "Villain!" was all that he pronounced in the hearing of the turnkey; and he then fell forward at once, across the threshold of the door.
All was now confusion. Both jailers started forward to raise the nobleman, whom they believed to have tripped his foot in the doorway. Harding gave one longing look toward the open door and the embarrassed turnkeys; but then, turning his eyes to the fetters upon his own limbs, he sat down with a sigh of infinite compassion for himself, while the earl was raised, and the door locked.
"He has fainted, Mr. Jones!" said one of the jailers. "Here, take his feet, and help me to carry him along to the waiting room."