"That does not signify, my excellent little rogue," said Gammon, with an infernal smile, "if the _fact_ be so. That you are a fool, you must by this time even yourself begin to suspect; and you surely _can't_ doubt that you are something like an arrant villain after what has just taken place? Eh? 'T was a bright idea truly--well conceived and boldly executed. I give you all the credit for it; and it is only your misfortune that it was not successful. So let us now return to business. Uncock your pistol--replace it in your cabinet, and resume your seat; or in one minute's time I leave you, and go direct to Lord Dreddlington; and if so, you had better use that pistol in blowing out your _own_ brains--if you have any." Titmouse, after a moment or two's pause of irresolution, passively obeyed--very nearly on the point of crying aloud with disappointment and impotent rage; and he and Gammon were presently again sitting opposite to one another. Gammon was cold and collected--yet must it not have cost him a prodigious effort? Though he had told Titmouse that they were _copies_ only which he had destroyed, they were, nevertheless, the ORIGINALS, which, with such an incredible indiscretion, he had trusted into the hands of Titmouse; they were the ORIGINALS which Titmouse had just scattered to the winds; and who, in so doing, had suddenly--but unknowingly--broken to pieces the wand of the enchanter who had long exercised over him so mysterious and despotic an authority!--How comes it, that we not unfrequently find men of the profoundest craft, just at the very crisis of their fortunes, thus unexpectedly, irretrievably, and incredibly committing themselves? In the present instance, the only satisfactory way of accounting for Mr. Gammon's indiscretion, would seem to be by referring it to a sense of security engendered by his utter contempt for Titmouse. "Are you _now_ satisfied, Mr. Titmouse, that you are completely at my mercy, and at the same time totally undeserving of it?" said Gammon, speaking in a low and earnest tone, and with much of his former kindness of manner. To an observant eye, however, what was at that moment the real expression in that of Gammon? Soothing and gentle as was his voice, he felt as if he could instantly have destroyed the audacious little miscreant before him. But he proceeded with wonderful self-command--"Do not, my dear Titmouse, madly make me your enemy--your enemy for life--but rather your friend--your watchful and powerful friend and protector, whose every interest is identified with your own. Remember all that I have done and sacrificed for you--how I have racked my brain for you day and night--always relying upon your ultimate gratitude. Oh, the endless scheming I have had to practise, to conceal your fatal secret--and of which you shall ere long know more! During these last two years have I not ruinously neglected my own interests, to look after yours?"