carriage, and be gone instantly."

"You are wrong," replied Glanville, slowly recovering himself. "I must
not fly; it would be worse than useless; it would seem the strongest
argument against me. Remember that if Thornton has really gone to inform
against me, the officers of justice would arrest me long before I reached
Calais; or even if I did elude their pursuit so far, I should be as much
in their power in France as in England: but to tell you the truth, I do
not think Thornton will inform. Money, to a temper like his, is a
stronger temptation than revenge; and, before he has been three minutes
in the air, he will perceive the folly of losing the golden harvest he
may yet make of me for the sake of a momentary passion. No--my best plan
will be to wait here till to-morrow, as I originally intended. In the
meanwhile he will, in all probability, pay me another visit, and I will
make a compromise with his demands."

Despite of my fears, I could not but see the justice of these
observations, the more especially as a still stronger argument than any
urged by Glanville, forced itself on my mind; this was my internal
conviction, that Thornton himself was guilty of the murder of Tyrrell,
and that, therefore, he would, for his own sake, avoid the new and
particularizing scrutiny into that dreadful event, which his accusation
of Glanville would necessarily occasion.

Both of us were wrong. Villains have passions as well as honest men; and
they will, therefore, forfeit their own interest in obedience to those
passions, while the calculations of prudence invariably suppose, that
that interest is their only rule. [Note: I mean "interest" in the
general, not the utilitarian, signification of the word.]