Williams maintained a countenance so unmoved that even the judicious Timms was a little shaken; while Dunscomb, who had all the reluctance of a gentleman to believe in an act of meanness, felt outraged by his associate’s suspicions. “Come, come, Mr. Timms,” the last exclaimed, “I beg we may have no more of this. Mr. Williams has come with a proposition worthy of our consideration; let us meet it in the spirit in which it is offered.” “Yes,” repeated Williams, with a look that might well have explained his _sobriquet_ of ‘saucy;’ “yes, in the spirit in which it is offered. What do you say to that, Timms?” “That I shall manage the defence precisely as if no such proposition had been made, or any negotiation accepted. You can do the same for the prosecution.” “Agreed!” Williams rejoined, making a sweeping gesture with his hand, and immediately quitting the room. Dunscomb was silent for a minute. A thread of smoke arose from the end of his segar; but the volume no longer poured from between his lips. He was ruminating too intensely even to smoke. Rising suddenly, he took his hat, and motioned towards the door. “Timms, we must go to the gaol,” he said; “Mary Monson must be spoken to at once.” “If Williams had made his proposition ten days ago, there might be some use in listening to it,” returned the junior, following the senior counsel from the room, carrying all the papers in the cause under an arm; “but, now that all the mischief is done, it would be throwing away five thousand dollars to listen to his proposition.” “We will see—we will see,” answered the other, hurrying down stairs—“what means the rumpus in that room, Timms? Mrs. Horton has not treated me well, to place a troublesome neighbour so near me. I shall stop and tell her as much, as we go through the hall.” “You had better not, ’Squire. We want all our friends just now; and a sharp word might cause us to lose this woman, who has a devil of a tongue. She tells me that a crazy man was brought here privately; and, being well paid for it, she has consented to give him what she calls her ‘drunkard’s parlour,’ until the court has settled his affair. His room, like your own, is so much out of the way, that the poor fellow gives very little trouble to the great body of the boarders.” “Ay, very little trouble to _you_, and the rest of you, in the main building; but a great deal to me. I shall speak to Mrs. Horton on the subject, as we pass out.” “Better not, ’Squire. The woman is our friend now, I know; but a warm word may turn her to the right-about.”