"
"He knows it, does he?" shrieked out Clavering. "Damn him--kill him."
"You'd like to kill us all, wouldn't you old boy?" said Strong, with a
sneer, puffing his cigar.
The baronet dashed his weak hand against his forehead; perhaps the
other had interpreted his wish rightly. "Oh, Strong!" he cried, "if I
dared, I'd put an end to myself, for I'm the d--est miserable dog in
all England. It's that that makes me so wild and reckless. It's that
which makes me take to drink (and he drank, with a trembling hand, a
bumper of his fortifier--the Curacoa), and to live about with these
thieves. I know they're thieves, every one of em, d--d thieves.
And--and how can I help it?--and I didn't know it, you know--and, by
gad, I'm innocent--and until I saw the d--d scoundrel first, I knew no
more about it than the dead--and I'll fly, and I'll go abroad out of
the reach of the confounded hells, and I'll bury myself in a forest,
by gad! and hang myself up to a tree--and, oh--I'm the most miserable
beggar in all England!" And so with more tears, shrieks, and curses,
the impotent wretch vented his grief and deplored his unhappy fate;
and, in the midst of groans and despair and blasphemy, vowed his
miserable repentance.
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