But Richard Arden was not thinking of him--did not hear him. He was overpowered. He sat down in his chair. He leaned back with a gasp and a faint laugh, like a man just overtaken by a wave, and lifted half-drowned from the sea. Then, with a sudden cry, he threw his hands and head on the table. There was no token of relenting in Longcluse's cruel face. There was a contemptuous pleasure in it. He did not remove his eyes from that spectacle of abasement as he replaced the parchment in his pocket. There is a silence of about a minute, and Sir Richard sits up and says vaguely,-- "Thank God, it's over! Take me away; I'm ready to go." "You shall go, time enough; I have a word to say first," said Longcluse, and he signs to the Jew to leave them. On being left to themselves, the first idea that struck Sir Richard was the wild one of escape. He glanced quickly at the window. It was barred with iron. There were men in the next room--he could not tell how many--and he was without arms. The hope lighted up, and almost at the same moment expired. CHAPTER LXX. MR. LONGCLUSE PROPOSES. "Clear your head," says Mr. Longcluse, sternly, seating himself before Sir Richard, with the table between; "you must conceive a distinct idea of your situation, Sir, and I shall then tell you something that remains. You have committed a forgery under aggravated circumstances, for which I shall have you convicted and sentenced to penal servitude at the next sessions. I have been a good friend to you on many occasions; you have been a false one to me--who baser?--and while I was anonymously helping you with large sums of money, you forged my name to a legal instrument for ten thousand pounds, to swindle your unknown benefactor, little suspecting who he was." Longcluse smiled. "I have heard how you spoke of me. I'm an adventurer, a leg, an assassin, a person whom you were compelled to drop; rather a low person, I fear, if a felon can't afford to sit beside me! You were always too fine a man for me. Your get up was always peculiar; you were famous for that. It will soon be more singular still, when your hair and your clothes are cut after the fashion of the great world you are about to enter. How your friends will laugh!" Sir Richard heard all this with a helpless stare. "I have only to stamp on the ground, to call up the men who will accomplish your transformation. I can change your life by a touch, into convict dress, diet, labour, lodging, for the rest of your days. What plea have you to offer to my mercy?" Sir Richard would have spoken, but his voice failed him. With a second effort, however, he said--"Would it not be more manly if you let me meet my fate, without this."