“’Tis my name that he calls,” said Ellen, turning red. “Unhand me, sir; and if you are a man help me to discover who and what this poor creature is!”
“Help!” faintly sighed the voice from among the trees.
“’Tis the voice of Andrew,” said Ellen. “Some foul villany has been here at work; this blood upon the planks is his!”
“Help!”
“’Tis Andrew Gamble’s voice.”
“D—nation!” growled Blood, and, then, in a persuasive voice, “Come, fair one, come; ’tis all imagination, believe me! Hark! do you hear the loud shouts of the villagers? Come, let’s haste away; the Skeleton Crew are butchering all they fall across. Come, haste!”
Blood put his strong arm round Ellen’s waist, and half by persuasion, half by force, bore her away, pale, trembling, and more dead than alive.
“Egad! ’twas well I used mild force with the pretty wench,” said he, “or she would have discovered all. I must return, if possible, and give that rustic a finishing touch; it will never do to let him recover and go babbling over the village, or we may be traced to London, and then all fun would end. ’Twas lucky she didn’t look in the right direction as I did, or she would have seen Master Andrew washed by the river among the bull-rushes on the bank. I just caught sight of his face in the fitful moonlight; how white and horrible it looked!”
He was so impatient to bear off Ellen Harmer to his carriage that he actually took her up in his arms.
This he explained to the struggling maid by saying that they were pursued.