Unconsciously he had lapsed into the advocate, as those who have once played the part are apt to do. This was not his own cause, but Geoffrey Horner’s. And he served his friend so thoroughly that for the moment he really was the man whose part he had elected to play. Sir John Pleydell was no mean foe. Geoffrey Horner had succeeded in turning aside the public suspicion, and in the eternal march of events, of which the sound is louder as the world grows older and hollower, the murder of Alfred Pleydell had been forgotten by all save his father. Conyngham saw the danger, and never thought to avoid it. What had been undertaken half in jest would be carried out in deadly earnest. ‘Mistakes,’ said Sir John sceptically. In dealing with the seamy side of life men come to believe that it is all stitches. ‘Which they may pass the rest of their lives in regretting.’ Sir John looked sharply at his companion, with suspicion dawning in his eyes again. It was Conyngham’s tendency to overplay his part. Later, when he became a soldier, and found that path in life for which he was best fitted, his superior officers and the cooler tacticians complained that he was over-eager, and in battle outpaced the men he led. ‘Then you see now that it was a mistake?’ suggested Sir John. In cross-examinations the suggestions of Sir John Pleydell are remembered in certain courts of justice to this day. ‘Of course.’ ‘To have mixed yourself in such an affair at all?’ ‘Yes.’ Sir John seemed to be softening, and Conyngham began to see a way out of this difficulty which had never suggested itself to him before. ‘Such mistakes have to be paid for—and the law assesses the price.’ Conyngham shrugged his shoulders. ‘It is easy enough to say you are sorry—the law can make no allowance for regret.’ Conyngham turned his attention to his breakfast, deeming it useless to continue the topic. ‘It was a mistake to attend the meeting at Durham—you admit that?’ continued Sir John. ‘Yes—I admit that, if it is any satisfaction to you.’ ‘Then it was worse than a mistake to actually lead the men out to my house for the purpose of breaking the windows. It was almost a crime. I would suggest to you, as a soldier for the moment, to lead a charge up a steep hill against a body of farm labourers and others entrenched behind a railing.’ ‘That is a mere matter of opinion.’ ‘And yet you did that,’ said Sir John. ‘If you are going to break the law you should insure success before embarking on your undertaking.’ Conyngham made no answer. ‘It was also a stupid error, if I may say so, to make your way back to Durham by Ravensworth, where you were seen and recognised. You see I have a good case against you, Mr. Conyngham.’ ‘Yes, I admit you have a good case against me, but you have not caught me yet.’ Sir John Pleydell looked at him coldly. ‘You do not even take the trouble to deny the facts I have named.’ ‘Why should I, when they are true?’ asked Conyngham carelessly.