Thus they regarded each other for some time, in silence.
‘Humph!’ he said when he had scanned his features; ‘I don’t know you.’
‘Don’t desire to?’—returned the other, muffling himself as before.
‘I don’t,’ said Gabriel; ‘to be plain with you, friend, you don’t carry in your countenance a letter of recommendation.’
‘It’s not my wish,’ said the traveller. ‘My humour is to be avoided.’
‘Well,’ said the locksmith bluntly, ‘I think you’ll have your humour.’
‘I will, at any cost,’ rejoined the traveller. ‘In proof of it, lay this to heart—that you were never in such peril of your life as you have been within these few moments; when you are within five minutes of breathing your last, you will not be nearer death than you have been to-night!’
‘Aye!’ said the sturdy locksmith.
‘Aye! and a violent death.’
‘From whose hand?’