Wentworth. For Farmer Blaize was a solid Englishman; and, on hearing
from the baronet a frank confession of the hold he had on the family, he
determined to tighten his hold, and only relax it in exchange for
tangible advantages--compensation to his pocket, his wounded person, and
his still more wounded sentiments: the total indemnity being, in round
figures, three hundred pounds, and a spoken apology from the prime
offender, young Mister Richard. Even then there was a reservation.
Provided, the farmer said, nobody had been tampering with any of his
witnesses. In that ease Farmer Blaize declared the money might go, and
he would transport Tom Bakewell, as he had sworn he would. And it goes
hard, too, with an accomplice, by law, added the farmer, knocking the
ashes leisurely out of his pipe. He had no wish to bring any disgrace
anywhere; he respected the inmates of Raynham Abbey, as in duty bound; he
should be sorry to see them in trouble. Only no tampering with his
witnesses. He was a man for Law. Rank was much: money was much: but Law
was more. In this country Law was above the sovereign. To tamper with
the Law was treason to the realm.

"I come to you direct," the baronet explained. "I tell you candidly what
way I discovered my son to be mixed up in this miserable affair. I
promise you indemnity for your loss, and an apology that shall, I trust,
satisfy your feelings, assuring you that to tamper with witnesses is not
the province of a Feverel. All I ask of you in return is, not to press
the prosecution. At present it rests with you. I am bound to do all
that lies in my power for this imprisoned man. How and wherefore my son
was prompted to suggest, or assist in, such an act, I cannot explain, for
I do not know."

"Hum!" said the farmer. "I think I do."