He saw his own rashness, he saw how his actions could be construed till they cast a slur even on the man he defended; he saw how legally he was in error, how legally the gallant vengeance of an indignant friendship might be construed into consciousness of guilt in the accused for whose sake the vengeance fell.
He stood silent, overwhelmed with the intensity of his own passion, baffled by the ingenuity of a serpent-wisdom he could not refute.
Ezra Baroni saw his advantage.

He ventured to raise himself slightly.
"My lord, since your faith in your friend is so perfect, send for him.
If he be innocent, and I a liar, with a look I shall be confounded." The tone was perfectly impassive, but the words expressed a world.

For a moment the Seraph's eyes flashed on him with a look that made him feel nearer his death than he had been near to it in all his days; but Rockingham restrained himself from force.
"I will send for him," he said briefly; in that answer there was more of menace and of meaning than in any physical action.
He moved and let Baroni rise; shaken and bruised, but otherwise little seriously hurt, and still holding, in a tenacious grasp, the crumpled paper.

He rang; his own servant answered the summons.
"Go to the Stephanien and inquire for Mr.Cecil.Be quick; and request him, wherever he be, to be so good as to come to me instantly--here." The servant bowed and withdrew; a perfect silence followed between these two so strangely assorted companions; the Seraph stood with his back against the mantelpiece, with every sense on the watch to catch every movement of the Jew's, and to hear the first sound of Cecil's approach.
The minutes dragged on; the Seraph was in an agony of probation and impatience.

Once the attendants entered to light the chandeliers and candelabra; the full light fell on the dark, slight form of the Hebrew, and on the superb attitude and the fair, frank, proud face of the standing Guardsman; neither moved--once more they were left alone.
The moments ticked slowly away one by one, audible in the silence.