“There, there, don't be losing time that way. Is that the touch of a man long for this world?” and he laid on the other's hand his own hot and burning fingers. “I said I knew why you came here, Dunn,” continued he, more strongly; “it was to look at your work. Ay, just so. It was _you_ brought me to this, and you wanted to see it. Turn your eyes round the room, and you 'll see it's poor enough. Look in at that bedroom there, and you 'll say it could n't be much more humble! I pawned my watch yesterday; there's all that's out of it;” and he showed some pieces of silver and copper mixed together in the palm of his hand; “there's not a silver spoon left, so that you see you 've done it well!” “My dear Kellett, these words of yours have no meaning in them--” “Maybe not; but maybe you understand them, for all that! Look here, now, Dunn,” said he, clutching his hand in his own feverish grasp; “what the Child begins the Man finishes! I know you well, and I 've watched you for many a year. All your plans and schemes never deceived _me_; but it's a house of cards you 're building, after all! What I knew about you as a boy others may know as a man; and I would n't believe St. Peter if he told me you only did it _once!_” “If this be not raving, it is a deliberate insult!” muttered Dunn, sternly, while he rudely pushed away the other's hand, and drew back his chair. “Well, it's not raving, whatever it is,” said Kellett, calmly. “The cold air of the earth that's opening for me clears my brain, and I know well the words I 'm saying, and the warning I 'm giving you. Tell the people fairly that it's only scheming you were; that the companies are a bubble and the banks a sham; that you 're only juggling this man's credit against that, making the people think that you have the confidence of the Government, and the Government believe that you can do what you like with the people. Go at once and publish it, that you are only cheating them all, or you 'll have a gloomier ending even than this!” “I came out of compassion for you.” “No, you did n't, not a bit of it. You came to tell old Mat Dunn that the score was wiped off; _he_ came to the window here this morning and looked in at me.” “My father? Impossible! He's nearly ninety, and barely able to move about a room.” “I don't care for that: there he was, where you see that bush, and he leaned on the window-sill and looked at me; and he wiped the glass, where his breath dulled it, twice. Then I gave a shout at him that sent him off. They had to carry him to the car outside.” “Is this true?” cried Dunn, eagerly. “If I had had but the strength to bring me to the window, it's little I 'd have minded his white hair.” “If you had dared!” said Dunn, rising, and no longer able to control his anger.