“Gad, Richard! but you are singularly obtuse. Have I not pointed out that John was a quixotic fool? When did I say he was a weak one?”

“You mean⁠—you mean you wanted Lavinia to marry me⁠—because you thought to squeeze me as you willed?” asked Carstares slowly.

His Grace’s thin nostrils wrinkled up.

“You are so crude,” he complained.

“It suited you that Jack should be disgraced? You thought I should seize his money. You⁠—you⁠—”

“Rogue? But you will admit that I at least am an honest rogue. You are⁠—er⁠—a dishonest saint. I would sooner be what I am.”

“I know there is nothing on God’s earth more vile than I am!” replied Carstares, violently.

His Grace sneered openly.