Skelton’s face had turned blue with rage while Bulstrode was speaking; but there was no way to make him stop, except pounding him with the chair. And then, Skelton wanted to find out how much Bulstrode really knew. Yes, he knew it all. Well might Skelton hate Blair and pursue his ruin. Either the Blairs must happen, by the most fortuitous accident, to fall into a great fortune at his death, or else the stigma that he had so carefully removed, as far as the world knew, from Lewis must be published in two countries. Fury and dismay kept him silent, but Bulstrode actually quailed under his eye when once Skelton had fixed it on him. Skelton spoke after a little pause: “Your knowledge is entirely correct; and more, you are at liberty to proclaim it to the world any day you feel like it. The extraordinary part of it is that some wretch, as loose of tongue as you, has not by this time done so. It is a wonder that some creature, inspired by gratuitous ill-will towards that innocent boy, has not already published his shame. But the world, that is so forgiving and gentle to me, is already arrayed against him. The people in this county, for example, who seek the society of the owner of Deerchase, have condemned the innocent boy merely upon suspicion. It was so before I brought him here. No man or woman looked askant at me, but they put _him_ beyond the pale. Bah! what a world it is!” Bulstrode’s courage and swagger had abated all the time Skelton had been speaking. It never could stand up against Skelton’s coolness and determination. But some impulse of tenderness towards Lewis made him say: “You need not fear for one moment that I would harm the boy. I too love him. Unlike the world, I hold him to be innocent and you to be guilty.”