“Now, these matters are so trivial that taken separately they have no value whatever; taken conjointly, their value is not great; they do not contain evidence enough to justify the hanging of a dog. And yet, I realize that disturbed as the times are, fearful of sedition as the government finds itself in consequence of the mischief done to public credit by the South Sea disaster, and ready as the ministry is to see plots everywhere and to make examples, pour discourager les autres, if the accusation you intend is laid against me, backed by such evidence as this, it is not impossible--indeed, it is not improbable--that it may--ah--tend to shorten my life.” “Sir,” sneered Rotherby, “I declare you should have been a lawyer. We haven't a pleader of such parts and such lucidity at the whole bar.” Mr. Caryll nodded his thanks. “Your praise is very flattering, my lord,” said he, with a wry smile, and then proceeded: “It is because I see my case to be so very nearly desperate, that I venture to hope you will not persevere in the course you are proposing to adopt.” Lord Rotherby laughed noiselessly. “Can you urge me any reasons why we should not?” “If you could urge me any reasons why you should,” said Mr. Caryll, “no doubt I should be able to show you under what misapprehensions you are laboring.” He shot a keen glance at his lordship, whose face had suddenly gone blank. Mr. Caryll smiled quietly. “There is in this something that I do not understand,” he resumed. “It does not satisfy me to suppose, as at first might seem, that you are acting out of sheer malice against me. You have scarcely cause to do that, my lord; and you, my lady, have none. That fool Green--patience--he conceives that he has suffered at my hands. But without your assistance Mr. Green would be powerless to hurt me. What, then, is it that is moving you?” He paused, looking from one to the other of his declared enemies. They exchanged glances--Hortensia watching them, breathless, her own mind working, too, upon this question that Mr. Caryll had set, yet nowhere finding an answer. “I had thought,” said her ladyship at last, “that you promised to tell us something that it was in our interest to hear. Instead, you appear to be asking questions.” Mr. Caryll shifted in his chair. One glance he gave the countess, then smiled. “I have sought at your hands the reasons why you should desire my death,” said he slowly. “You withhold them. Be it so. I take it that you are ashamed of them; and so, their nature is not difficult to conjecture.” “Sir--” began Rotherby, hotly, half-starting from his seat. “Nay, let him trundle on, Charles,” said his mother. “He'll be the sooner done.” “Instead,” proceeded Mr. Caryll, as if there had been no interruption, “I will now urge you my reasons why you should not so proceed.” “Ha!” snapped Rotherby. “They will need to be valid.”