She unfolded the paper, and read its contents, which were as follows:—
“Don’t flatter yourself that you can elude me. I am here, as you see, again. Come down, or it will be worse for you.”
“Go away!” said Mrs. Dyson, looking out. “I don’t want to have any conversation with you, and I positively refuse to come down.”
“You do?” screamed Peace, making a face at her. “You refuse?”
“Most positively.”
“I’ll break into the house, and force you to hear me!” he cried, with a malicious grin. “You know enough of me that I am not likely to take such an answer. I will make you do what I wish.”
“Oh, you horrible man!”
“Horrible—am I?” He drew a revolver from his pocket. “You will make me do something horrible if you don’t mind,” he ejaculated.
“I’ll call my husband, and let him answer you,” returned Mrs. Dyson.
“Your husband, the poor fool!” said Peace, in a jeering tone. “Do you think I am to be deceived? Your husband is far away. But if he were at home it would be much the same. Come down and let me in.”