'You have practised at the Bar,' parenthetically.

Conyngham shrugged his shoulders.

'Unsuccessfully--anybody can do that.'

'Which are you--a fool or a knave?' asked Sir John.

And suddenly Conyngham pitied him. For no man is proof against the quick sense of pathos aroused by the sight of man, or dumb animal, baffled. At the end of his life Sir John had engaged upon the greatest quest of it--an unworthy quest, no doubt, but his heart was in it--and he was an old man, though be bore his years well enough.

'Perhaps that is the mistake you have always made,' said Conyngham gravely. 'Perhaps men are not to be divided into two cla.s.ses.

There may be some who only make mistakes, Sir John.'

Unconsciously he had lapsed into the advocate, as those who have once played the part are apt to do. This was not his own cause, but Geoffrey Horner's. And he served his friend so thoroughly that for the moment he really was the man whose part he had elected to play.

Sir John Pleydell was no mean foe. Geoffrey Horner had succeeded in turning aside the public suspicion, and in the eternal march of events, of which the sound is louder as the world grows older and hollower, the murder of Alfred Pleydell had been forgotten by all save his father. Conyngham saw the danger, and never thought to avoid it. What had been undertaken half in jest would be carried out in deadly earnest.

'Mistakes,' said Sir John sceptically. In dealing with the seamy side of life men come to believe that it is all st.i.tches.

'Which they may pa.s.s the rest of their lives in regretting.'

Sir John looked sharply at his companion, with suspicion dawning in his eyes again. It was Conyngham's tendency to overplay his part.

Later, when he became a soldier, and found that path in life for which he was best fitted, his superior officers and the cooler tacticians complained that he was over-eager, and in battle outpaced the men he led.

'Then you see now that it was a mistake?' suggested Sir John. In cross-examinations the suggestions of Sir John Pleydell are remembered in certain courts of justice to this day.

'Of course.'

'To have mixed yourself in such an affair at all?'

'Yes.'

Sir John seemed to be softening, and Conyngham began to see a way out of this difficulty which had never suggested itself to him before.

'Such mistakes have to be paid for--and the law a.s.sesses the price.'

Conyngham shrugged his shoulders.

'It is easy enough to say you are sorry--the law can make no allowance for regret.'

Conyngham turned his attention to his breakfast, deeming it useless to continue the topic.

'It was a mistake to attend the meeting at Durham--you admit that?'

continued Sir John.

'Yes--I admit that, if it is any satisfaction to you.'

'Then it was worse than a mistake to actually lead the men out to my house for the purpose of breaking the windows. It was almost a crime. I would suggest to you, as a soldier for the moment, to lead a charge up a steep hill against a body of farm labourers and others entrenched behind a railing.'

'That is a mere matter of opinion.'

'And yet you did that,' said Sir John. 'If you are going to break the law you should insure success before embarking on your undertaking.'

Conyngham made no answer.

'It was also a stupid error, if I may say so, to make your way back to Durham by Ravensworth, where you were seen and recognised. You see I have a good case against you, Mr. Conyngham.'

'Yes, I admit you have a good case against me, but you have not caught me yet.'

Sir John Pleydell looked at him coldly.

'You do not even take the trouble to deny the facts I have named.'

'Why should I, when they are true?' asked Conyngham carelessly.

Sir John Pleydell leant back in his chair.

'I have cla.s.sified you,' he said with a queer laugh.

'Ah!' answered Conyngham, suddenly uneasy.

'Yes--as a fool.'

He leant forward with a deprecating gesture of his thin white hand.

'Do not be offended,' he said, 'and do not reproach yourself for having given your case away. You never had a case, Mr. Conyngham.

Chartists are not made of your material at all. As soon as you gave me your card in Madrid, I had a slight suspicion. I thought you were travelling under a false name. It was plain to the merest onlooker that you were not the man I sought. You are too easy- going, too much of a gentleman to be a Chartist. You are screening somebody else. You have played the part well, and with an admirable courage and fidelity. I wish my boy Alfred had had a few such friends as you. But you are a fool, Mr. Conyngham. No man on earth is worth the sacrifice that you have made.'

Conyngham slowly stirred his coffee. He was meditating.

'You have pieced together a very pretty tale,' he said at length.

'Some new scheme to get me within the reach of the English law, no doubt.'

'It is a pretty tale--too pretty for practical life. And if you want proofs I will mention the fact that the Chartist meeting was at Chester-le-Street, not Durham; that my house stands in a hollow and not on a hill; that you could not possibly go to Durham via Ravensworth, for they lie in opposite directions. No, Mr.

Conyngham, you are not the man I seek. And, strange to say, I took a liking to you when I first saw you. I am no believer in instinct, or mutual sympathy, or any such sentimental nonsense. I do not believe in much, Mr. Conyngham, and not in human nature at all. I know too much about it for that. But there must have been something in that liking for you at first sight. I wish you no harm, Mr.

Conyngham. I am like Balaam--I came to curse, and now stay to bless. Or, perhaps, I am more like Balaam's companion and adviser-- I bray too much.'

He sat back again with a queer smile.

'You may go home to England to-morrow if you care to,' he added, after a pause, 'and if that affair is ever raked up against you I will be your counsel, if you will have me.'

'Thank you.'

'You do not want to go home to England?' suggested Sir John, whose ear was as quick as his eye.

'No, I have affairs in Spain.'

'Or--perhaps a castle here. Beware of such--I once had one.'

And the cold grey face softened for an instant. It seemed at times as if there were after all a man behind that marble casing.