mport was, "He's got them
both."

Billson was not used to emergencies; he sat in a helpless collapse. But
Wilson was a lawyer. He struggled to his feet, pale and worried, and
said:

"I ask the indulgence of the house while I explain this most painful
matter. I am sorry to say what I am about to say, since it must inflict
irreparable injury upon Mr. Billson, whom I have always esteemed and
respected until now, and in whose invulnerability to temptation I
entirely believed--as did you all. But for the preservation of my own
honour I must speak--and with frankness. I confess with shame--and I now
beseech your pardon for it--that I said to the ruined stranger all of the
words contained in the test-remark, including the disparaging fifteen.
[Sensation.] When the late publication was made I recalled them, and I
resolved to claim the sack of coin, for by every right I was entitled to
it. Now I will ask you to consider this point, and weigh it well; that
stranger's gratitude to me that night knew no bounds; he said himself
that he could find no words for it that were adequate, and that if he
should ever be able he would repay me a thousandfold. Now, then, I ask
you this; could I expect--could I believe--could I even remotely
imagine--that, feeling as he did, he would do so ungrateful a thing as to
add those quite unnecessary fifteen words to his test?--set a trap for
me?--expose me as a slanderer of my own town before my own people
assembled in a public hall? It was preposterous; it was impossible. His
test would contain only the kindly opening clause of my remark. Of that
I had no shadow of doubt. You would have thought as I did. You would
not have expected a base betrayal from one whom you had befriended and
against whom you had committed no offence. And so with perfect
confidence, perfect trust, I wrote on a piece of paper the opening
words--ending with "Go, and reform,"--and signed it. When I was about to
put it in an envelope I was called into my back office, and without
thinking I left the paper lying open on my desk." He stopped, turned his
head slowly toward Billson, waited a moment, then added: "I ask you to
note this; when I returned, a little latter, Mr. Billson was retiring by
my street door." [Sensation.]

In a moment Billson was on his feet and shouting:

"It's a lie! It's an infamous lie!"

The Chair. "Be seated, sir! Mr. Wilson has the floor."

Billson's friends pulled him into his sea