'It is there in six letters. And do not be
so certain--you have not stood your trial yet. It is an ugly
affair, a fishy business. It is highly disagreeable. I would give
my hand off--I mean I would give a hundred pound down, to have
nothing to do with it. And, situated as we are, we must at once
take action. There is here no choice. You must at once quit this
country, and get to France, or Holland, or, indeed, to Madagascar.'
'There may be two words to that,' said I.
'Not so much as one syllable!' he retorted. 'Here is no room for
argument. The case is nakedly plain. In the disgusting position
in which you have found means to place yourself, all that is to be
hoped for is delay. A time may come when we shall be able to do
better. It cannot be now: now it would be the gibbet.'
'You labour under a false impression, Mr. Romaine,' said I. 'I
have no impatience to figure in the dock. I am even as anxious as
yourself to postpone my first appearance there. On the other hand,
I have not the slightest intention of leaving this country, where I
please myself extremely. I have a good address, a ready tongue, an
English accent that passes, and, thanks to the generosity of my
uncle, as much money as I want. It would be hard indeed if, with
all these advantages, Mr. St.
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