“I know not, really,” replied Wilton.  “In fact, I know nothing upon the subject, except that the Duke is virtually innocent of the crime with which you would charge him.  You made him listen to designs which he abhorred; and because he did not betray you, you charge him with participating in them.  As for the witnesses Cook and Smith, I have heard from the Earl of Byerdale that neither the one nor the other have anything to say against the Duke.”

Sir John Fenwick had listened with a bitter smile to what Wilton said; but he replied almost fiercely, “You know nothing of what you are talking.  Are you blind enough or foolish enough to fancy that the Earl of Byerdale is a friend of the Duke?”

“I really do not know,” replied Wilton, calmly.  “I suppose he is neither very much his friend nor his enemy.”

“And there, too, you are mistaken,” answered Sir John Fenwick:  “for an envoy, you know marvellous little of the sender’s situation.”

“I only know,” replied Wilton, “thus much, which you yourself cannot deny, that to accuse the Duke, so as to bring him to trial for this unfortunate affair, will be to produce your certain condemnation; to cut you off from all chance of hope.”

Lady Mary Fenwick had hitherto stood silent a step or two behind Wilton; but now advancing a little, she said, “Indeed, Sir John, you had better think of it.  It seems to me that what Mr. Brown says is reasonable, and that it would be much better so to state or modify your charge against the Duke as not to hazard his life.”

“Nonsense, Lady Mary!” exclaimed Fenwick; “neither you nor be know anything of what my charges are, or in what my hopes consist.  My charge against the Duke shall stand as I have given it; and you may tell him, that it is not on my evidence alone he will be condemned; so that yours, young man, will not tend much to save him.”

Wilton saw that it would be useless to urge the matter any farther at that moment, though, notwithstanding the perverse determination shown by the prisoner, he was not without hope that their conversation might ultimately produce some effect upon his mind.

“Well, Sir John,” he said, “I will keep you no longer from conversation with your lady.  I grieve for you on every account.  I grieve to see you here, I grieve for the situation in which you have placed yourself, and I still more grieve to see you struggling to deliver yourself from that situation by means which may produce the destruction of others, and will certainly produce your own.”

“I neither want your grief, nor care for it, sir,” replied the prisoner.  “Good night, good night.”

Wilton then turned and left him; but Lady Mary Fenwick accompanied the young gentleman into the passage, saying in a low voice, “The Earl of Byerdale has seen him twice.  You will do well to be upon your guard there.”

“Thank you, lady, thank you,” replied Wilton.  “I am upon my guard, and am most grateful for what you have done.”