“My dear fellow,” said Trefusis, almost affectionately, “if a man has a conscience he can have no choice in matters of conviction.  I have read somewhere in your book that the man who will not shed his blood for the liberty of his brothers is a coward and a slave.  Will you not shed a drop of ink—­my ink, too—­for the right of your brothers to the work of their hands?  I at first sight did not care to sign this petition, because I would as soon petition a tiger to share his prey with me as our rulers to relax their grip of the stolen labor they live on.  But Donovan Brown said to me, ’You have no choice.  Either you believe that the laborer should have the fruit of his labor or you do not.  If you do, put your conviction on record, even if it should be as useless as Pilate’s washing his hands.’  So I signed.”

“Donovan Brown was right,” said Sir Charles.  “I will sign.”  And he did so with a flourish.

“Brown will be delighted,” said Trefusis.  “I will write to him to-day that I have got another good signature for him.”

“Two more,” said Sir Charles.  “You shall sign, Erskine; hang me if you shan’t!  It is only against rascals that run away without paying their men their wages.”

“Or that don’t pay them in full,” observed Trefusis, with a curious smile.  “But do not sign if you feel uncomfortable about it.”

“If you don’t sign after me, you are a sneak, Chester,” said Sir Charles.

“I don’t know what it means,” said Erskine, wavering.  “I don’t understand petitions.”

“It means what it says; you cannot be held responsible for any meaning that is not expressed in it,” said Trefusis.  “But never mind.  You mistrust me a little, I fancy, and would rather not meddle with my petitions; but you will think better of that as you grow used to me.  Meanwhile, there is no hurry.  Don’t sign yet.”

“Nonsense!  I don’t doubt your good faith,” said Erskine, hastily disavowing suspicions which he felt but could not account for.  “Here goes!” And he signed.

“Well done!” said Trefusis.  “This will make Brown happy for the rest of the month.”

“It is time for us to go now,” said Erskine gloomily.

“Look in upon me at any time; you shall be welcome,” said Trefusis.  “You need not stand upon any sort of ceremony.”

Then they parted; Sir Charles assuring Trefusis that he had never spent a more interesting morning, and shaking hands with him at considerable length three times.  Erskine said little until he was in the Riverside Road with his friend, when he suddenly burst out: 

“What the devil do you mean by drinking two tumblers of such staggering stuff at one o’clock in the day in the house of a dangerous man like that?  I am very sorry I went into the fellow’s place.  I had misgivings about it, and they have been fully borne out.”

“How so?” said Sir Charles, taken aback.

“He has overreached us.  I was a deuced fool to sign that paper, and so were you.  It was for that that he invited us.”