"But what are you driving at?" he said. "How does all this concern me?"
"It concerns you, sir, in this way: you told me that Margari was your
confidential agent, and therefore he must have destroyed the bill at
your bidding."
"I only said that to help him to get a small official post. I am
responsible for nobody. What have I to do with the characters of my
servants, my lacqueys."
"But you assured me that your bills often passed through his hands."
Mr. John fancied that the best way out of this unpleasant _cul-de-sac_
was by adopting a little energetic bluffing.
"What do you mean by cross-examining me in my own house?" he cried, with
affected _hauteur_, springing from the sofa.
The magistrate rose at the same time.
"Pardon me, but I am here not as a visitor, but in my official
capacity--as your judge."
And with that he coolly unbuttoned his _attila_[40] and drew forth from
the inside pocket a large sealed letter.
[Footnote 40: A fur pelisse, worn on state occasions.]
"You must swear to every one of the interrogatories administered to you
by me."
"I? I'll swear to nothing," cried Mr. John. "I am a Quaker and therefore
cannot take an oath."
"This document, sir, is a royal mandate and whoever refuses to obey it
is liable to penalties."
"What penalties?"
"A fine of eighty florins."
"Eighty florins? There you are then, take them!" cried Mr.
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