"That's a very different thing."
"Oh, you do value your own foul life?"
"At any amount of money," said Monckton.
"Then why do you risk it?"
"Excuse me, governor, that's a thing I make a point of not doing. I risk
my instruments, not my head, Ben Burnley to wit."
"You are risking it now," said Bartley, looking still more
strangely at him.
"How so, pray?" said Monckton, getting a little uneasy, for this was not
the Bartley he had known till then.
Bartley took the poker in his hand and proceeded to poke the fire; but
somehow he did not look at the fire. He looked askant at Monckton, and he
showed the white of his eyes more and more. Monckton kept his eye upon
him and put his hand upon the handle of the door.
"I'll tell you," said Bartley--"by coming here to tempt, provoke, and
insult the wretch whose soul you destroyed, by forcing me to assassinate
the best man and the sweetest girl in England, when there were vipers and
villains about whom it's a good action to sweep off God's earth. Villain!
I'll teach you to come like a fool and madden a madman.
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