You are at the present moment suspecting me of crimes
beyond number. You encourage Scotland Yard detectives to make
asses of themselves in my stream. Your myrmidons scramble on to
the top of my walls and try to bribe my servants to disclose the
mysteries of my household. You have accepted to the fullest
extent my volunteered statement that I am a patron of crime. You
are, in short--forgive me if I help myself to a little more of
this pate--engaged in a strenuous attempt to bring me to
justice."
"None of these things affects your daughter," Francis pointed out.
"Pardon me," Sir Timothy objected. "You are a great and shining
light of the English law. People speak of you as a future
Chancellor. How can you contemplate an alliance with the widow
of one criminal and the daughter of another?"
"As to Margaret being Oliver Hilditch's widow," Francis replied,
"you were responsible for that, and no one else. He was your
protege; you gave your consent to the marriage. As to your being
her father, that again is not Margaret's fault. I should marry
her if Oliver Hilditch had been three times the villain he was,
and if you were the Devil himself."
"I am getting quite to like you, Mr. Ledsam," Sir Timothy
declared, helping himself to another piece of toast and
commencing to butter it.
Pages:
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183