"He demands, sir, to be delivered over to the authorities," said he, "and you have no right to refuse him. I protest strongly."
"And you can protest all you damn please," retorted my client; "this isn't the Ohio State Senate. Do you know where I would put you, Mr. Trevor? Do you know where you ought to be? In a hencoop, sir, if I had one here. In a hen-coop. What would you do if a man who had gone a little out of his mind asked you for a gun to shoot himself with? Give it him, I suppose. But I put Mr. Allen ashore in Canada, with the funds to get off with, and then my duty's done."
This speech, as Mr. Cooke had no doubt confidently hoped, threw the senator into a frenzy of wrath.
"The day will come, sir," he shouted, shaking his fist at my client, "the day will come when you will rue this bitterly."
"Don't get off any of your oratorical frills on me," replied Mr. Cooke, contemptuously; "you ought to be tied and muzzled."
Mr. Trevor was white with anger.
"I, for one, will not go to Canada," he cried.
"You'll stay here and starve, then," said Mr. Cooke; "damned little I care."
Mr. Trevor turned to Farrar, who was biting his lip.
"Mr. Farrar, I know you to be a rising young man of sound principles, and Mr. Crocker likewise. You are the only ones who can sail. Have you reflected that you are about to ruin your careers?"