Speak."
The man turned as white as a sheet, and looked wretched with the whites
of his bulging eyes, and the great pimple on his nose awfully distinct
in the livid hue of his features. He was a rather slavish fellow, and
thought he was going to lose his situation. Please not to blame him,
for he, too, was one of the poor.
"O Dr. Renton, excuse me, sir; I didn't mean doing any harm."
"James, my daughter gave you an undirected letter this evening; you
carried it to one of my houses in Hanover Street. Is that true?"
"Ye-yes, sir. I couldn't help it. I only did what she told me, sir."
"James, if my daughter told you to set fire to this house, what would
you do?"
"I wouldn't do it, sir," he stammered, after some hesitation.
"You wouldn't? James, if my daughter ever tells you to set fire to this
house, do it, sir! Do it. At once. Do whatever she tells you. Promptly.
And I'll back you."
The man stared wildly at him, as he received this astonishing command.
Dr. Renton was perfectly grave, and had spoken slowly and seriously.
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