"You speak defiantly, Mr. Dixon. It is not the way to conciliate me." "Conciliate you! I am not such an ass as to try. I will try my own way. If I can manage it, you shall fear me." "If you can manage it!" said Mr. Fox-Cordery, a little uneasy at his visitor's confident tone. "Yes, if you can manage it. I should imagine you will find it a difficult task. If you think you can frighten me by your bullying you are mistaken." "Oh! I don't want to frighten you. I am going to play my cards openly, knowing perfectly well that you will not expose one of yours. Shall we proceed to business?" "Say what you have to say," exclaimed Mr. Fox-Cordery blandly, "and the devil take you!" John Dixon laughed. "When you speak softly, Fox, you are most deadly. It was just the same when you, I, and Robert Grantham were at school together in the country. Poor Bob! What a careless, reckless, generous fellow he was! What a tool he was in your hands, and how you worked him and played upon him!" "You lie," said Mr. Fox-Cordery, in a passionless voice. Few persons acquainted with him would have suspected how deeply he was agitated by this reference to his old schoolmate. "The scapegoat of the school," proceeded John Dixon, as if Mr. Fox-Cordery had not spoken. "As easily led as a fly in harness. We three were differently circumstanced. My people were poor, and could allow me very little pocket-money; Bob Grantham's people were rich, and he had a liberal supply. What your people allowed you no one knew. You kept your affairs very secret, Fox; you were always a sly, vain, cautious customer. Poor Bob was the soul of frankness; he made no secret of anything, not even of his weaknesses, which he laughed at as freely as some others did. Regularly every fourth Monday his foolish people sent him ten pounds, and quite as regularly on the very next day he had not a penny of his ten pounds left. Where did his money go to? Who, in the course of a few short hours, had got hold of it? Some said he gave it away to any poor man or woman he happened to meet. Some said he chucked it into the pond out of dare-devilry. When he was questioned, he turned it off with a laugh. You used to be asked about it, and you used to answer, 'How should I know?' It was a mystery, and Bob never blabbed--nor did you, Fox!" "How could I supply information," said Mr. Fox-Cordery, "upon a matter so mysterious; and what is the meaning of all this rhodomontade?"