And what sort of a pal are you,
that couldn't send me a word to Portland that you had dropped on to this
rascal Hope? You knew I was after him. You might have saved me the
trouble, you selfish brute."
Burnley submitted at once to the ascendency of Monckton; he hung his
head, and muttered, "I am no scholard to write to folk."
"You grudged a joey to a bloke to write for you. Now I suppose you expect
me to be a good pal to you again, all the same?"
"Why not?" said Burnley. "He is poison to you as well as to me. He
gave you twelve years' penal; you told me so at Portland; let's be
revenged on him."
"What else do you think I am here for, you fool? But empty revenge,
that's child's play. The question is, can you do what you are told?"
"Ay, if I see a chance of revenge. Why, I always did what you told me."
"Very well, then; there's nothing ripe yet."
"Yer don't mean I am to wait a year for my revenge."
"You will have to wait an opportunity. Revenge is like other luxuries,
there's a time for it. Do you think I am such a fool as to go in for
blindfold revenge, and get lagged or stretched? Not for Joseph, nor for
you, either, Benjamin.
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