The knowledge, however, that he could
always take them up again, seeing there was no third person here to
testify that he had laid them down, decided him, and he said:
"Well, Mr. Heythorp, the long and short of the matter is this: Our
friend Mr. Pillin paid you a commission of ten per cent. on the sale
of his ships. Oh! yes. He settled the money, not on you, but on your
relative Mrs. Larne and her children. This, as you know, is a breach of
trust on your part."
The old man's voice: "Where did you get hold of that cock-and-bull
story?" brought him to his feet before the fire.
"It won't do, Mr. Heythorp. My witnesses are Mr. Pillin, Mrs. Larne, and
Mr. Scriven."
"What have you come here for, then--blackmail?"
Mr. Ventnor straightened his waistcoat; a rush of conscious virtue had
dyed his face.
"Oh! you take that tone," he said, "do you? You think you can ride
roughshod over everything? Well, you're very much mistaken. I advise you
to keep a civil tongue and consider your position, or I'll make a beggar
of you. I'm not sure this isn't a case for a prosecution!"
"Gammon!"
The choler in Charles Ventnor kept him silent for a moment; then he
burst out:
"Neither gammon nor spinach.
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