But it was Squire Hawker who sat where you sit and it was you who
stood where I stand." He paused a moment and then added, with
simplicity, "I suppose I am a blackmailer, too."
"If you are," said Sir Francis, "I promise you you shall go to
jail." But his face had a shade on it that looked like the
reflection of the green wine gleaming on the table. Horne Fisher
regarded him steadily and answered, quietly enough:
"Blackmailers do not always go to jail. Sometimes they go to
Parliament. But, though Parliament is rotten enough already, you
shall not go there if I can help it. I am not so criminal as you
were in bargaining with crime. You made a squire give up his country
seat. I only ask you to give up your Parliamentary seat."
Sir Francis Verner sprang to his feet and looked about for one of
the bell ropes of the old-fashioned, curtained room.
"Where is Usher?" he cried, with a livid face.
"And who is Usher?" said Fisher, softly. "I wonder how much Usher
knows of the truth."
Verner's hand fell from the bell rope and, after standing for a
moment with rolling eyes, he strode abruptly from the room. Fisher
went but by the other door, by which he had entered, and, seeing no
sign of Usher, let himself out and betook himself again toward the
town.
Pages:
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216