'It's you have got to pay Fowler's money;
it's none of my business. You received the money from him when you
went to Bramcote, and you told the Squire it wasn't paid. I'd
nothing to do with that; you chose to be so obliging as give it me,
that was all. If you don't want to pay the money, let it alone; it's
all one to me. But I was willing to accommodate you by undertaking
to sell the horse, seeing it's not convenient to you to go so far
tomorrow.'
Godfrey was silent for some moments. He would have liked to
spring on Dunstan, wrench the whip from his hand, and flog him to
within an inch of his life; and no bodily fear could have deterred
him; but he was mastered by another sort of fear, which was fed by
feelings stronger even than his resentment. When he spoke again, it
was in a half-conciliatory tone.
'Well, you mean no nonsense about the horse, eh? You'll sell him
all fair, and hand over the money? If you don't, you know,
everything'll go to smash, for I've got nothing else to trust to.
And you'll have less pleasure in pulling the house over my head,
when your own skull's to be broken too.'
'Aye, aye,' said Dunstan, rising, 'all right. I thought you'd
come round. I'm the fellow to bring old Bryce up to the scratch.
I'll get you a hundred and twenty for him, if I get you a penny.'
'But it'll perhaps rain cats and dogs tomorrow, as it did
yesterday, and then you can't go,' said Godfrey, hardly knowing
whether he wished for that obstacle or not.
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