Vincent looked at the man: more abject cowardice he had never beheld than was displayed in every trembling limb of his huge carcase, in every feature of the blanched face. He flung him from him—in disdain.
"Yes," said Mr. Fox, with a desperate effort at composure, and he even tried to put his coat collar to rights, though his fingers were all shaking, and himself panting and breathless. "You—you may thank me—for—for having saved you. If—I had touched that bell—if I had called out—you would have been ruined—ruined for life—a pretty story for —— to hear—about his favourite protégé—increase your chances of getting into Parliament, wouldn't it? Can't you take a bit of a joke?—you're not a Scotchman!"
Vincent was still standing there, with louring brow.
"When you are busy with your jokes," said he, "I would advise you to keep any friends of mine out of them—especially a girl who has no one to defend her. But I am glad I came here to-night. I begin to understand in whose foul mind arose those distortions, and misrepresentations, and lies. So it was to you George Morris came when he wanted to know about Mr. Bethune and his granddaughter? An excellent authority! And it was straight from you, I suppose, that George Morris went to my father with his wonderful tale——"
"One moment," said Courtnay Fox—and he appeared to speak with a little difficulty: perhaps he still felt the pressure of knuckles at his neck. "Sit down. I wish to explain. Mind you, I could make this a bad night's work for you, if I chose. But I don't, for reasons that you would understand if you were a little older and had to earn your own living, as I have. It is my interest to make friends——"
"And an elegant way you have of making them," said Vincent, scornfully.
"——and I want to assure you that I never said anything to George Morris about Mr. Bethune that was not quite well-known. Nor had I the least idea that Morris was going to your father; or that you had the least interest or concern in the matter. As for a bit of chaff about Scotland: who would mind that? Many a time I've had it out with Mr. Bethune himself in this very room; and do you suppose he cared?—his grandiloquent patriotism soared far away above my little Cockney jests. So I wish you to perceive that there was no enmity in the affair, no intention to do harm, and no misrepresentation; and when you see that, you will see also that you have put yourself in the wrong, and I hope you will have the grace to apologise."
It was a most creditable effort to escape from a humiliating position with some semblance of dignity.
"Apologise for what?" said Vincent, staring.
"Why, for your monstrous and outrageous conduct of this evening!"