'If you are cast into prison;
if the young man--' here he looked hard at Barnaby's attentive face--'is
dragged from us and from his friends; perhaps from people whom he loves,
and whom his death would kill; is thrown into jail, brought out and
hanged before their eyes; still, do nothing. You'll find it your best
policy, I have no doubt.'
'Come on!' cried Hugh, striding towards the door. 'Dennis--Barnaby--come
on!'
'Where? To do what?' said Gashford, slipping past him, and standing with
his back against it.
'Anywhere! Anything!' cried Hugh. 'Stand aside, master, or the window
will serve our turn as well. Let us out!'
'Ha ha ha! You are of such--of such an impetuous nature,' said Gashford,
changing his manner for one of the utmost good fellowship and the
pleasantest raillery; 'you are such an excitable creature--but you'll
drink with me before you go?'
'Oh, yes--certainly,' growled Dennis, drawing his sleeve across his
thirsty lips. 'No malice, brother. Drink with Muster Gashford!'
Hugh wiped his heated brow, and relaxed into a smile. The artful
secretary laughed outright.
'Some liquor here! Be quick, or he'll not stop, even for that. He is a
man of such desperate ardour!' said the smooth secretary, whom Mr Dennis
corroborated with sundry nods and muttered oaths--'Once roused, he is a
fellow of such fierce determination!'
Hugh poised his sturdy arm aloft, and clapping Barnaby on the back,
bade him fear nothing.
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