“Impossible, my dear Warburton. I am convinced Dick never voiced so foolish a suggestion. Come now, confess! ’tis your own fabrication?”

Warburton ignored the bantering tone and spoke very deliberately.

“At all events, my lord, I believe him anxious to make⁠—amends.”

Carstares shot an alert, suspicious glance at him.

“Ah!”

“Yes, sir. Amends.”

My lord studied his emerald with half-closed eyelids.

“But why⁠—amends, Warburton?” he asked.

“Is not that the word, sir?”

“I confess it strikes me as inapt. Doubtless I am dull of comprehension.”