have hanged him on half the evidence; and I, like a fool, was going to
let him off with his liberty and my hundred pound-note! Ask his pardon
indeed!"

Still there were misgivings in his mind; a consciousness that he did owe
explanation and apology to Feltram, and an insurmountable reluctance to
undertake either. The old dislike--a contempt mingled with fear--not any
fear of his malevolence, a fear only of his carelessness and folly; for,
as I have said, Feltram knew many things, it was believed, of the
Baronet's Continental and Asiatic life, and had even gently remonstrated
with him upon the dangers into which he was running. A simple fellow
like Philip Feltram is a dangerous depository of a secret. This Baronet
was proud, too; and the mere possession of his secrets by Feltram was an
involuntary insult, which Sir Bale could not forgive. He wished him far
away; and except for the recovery of his bank-note, which he could ill
spare, he was sorry that this suspicion was cleared up.

The thunder and storm were unabated; it seemed indeed that they were
growing wilder and more awful.

He opened the window-shutter and looked out upon that sublimest of
scenes; and so intense and magnificent were its phenomena, that Sir
Bale, for a while, was absorbed in this contemplation.

When he turned about, the sight of his £100 note, still between his
finger and thumb, made him smile grimly.

The more he thought of it, the clearer it was that he could not leave
matters exactly as they were. Well, what should he do? He would send for
Mrs. Julaper, and tell her vaguely that he had changed his mind about