“No,” said Seth, with an oath.
“Very well,” said Bradstone, and he put on his hat and walked toward the door.
“Where are you a-goin’?” demanded Seth.
Bartley Bradstone made no reply; he unlocked the side door and opened it. It was still raining, and dark as pitch. He went down the steps, Seth following close upon his heels, down the drive, out of the lodge and into the muddy lane; and, like a shadow, Seth still followed.
From the lane Bartley Bradstone turned to the left, into a path that led toward the wood. He could scarcely have told, had he been asked his object in taking this path. His one idea was to get away from The Maples, where Seth could give the alarm. In the confusion of his mind, in the deadly agony of his fear, he almost lost consciousness of the spy who still hung on to him.
Suddenly Seth reminded him of his presence. Stepping up beside him, he put his hand upon his arm. “’Ere, guv’nor,” he said, “I’m sick o’ this. I think I’ll be able to show you that you’d better come to terms. I was only playing with you, up there at the house. I’ve got evidence that’ll put you out o’ the way without an ounce o’ trouble.”
“Evidence?” said Bartley Bradstone, with a sneer; “evidence of a gypsy pickpocket against the word of a well-known gentleman.”
“Yah!” snarled Seth. “Look ’ee ’ere!” and he took from his pocket an envelope torn in two. “Look ’ee ’ere; do yer know that?” and he flourished it in Bartley Bradstone’s face.
Dark as it was, Bartley Bradstone saw the piece of paper and knew that it was the confession which he had dropped in the Grange avenue. With a cry he sprang forward, but desperation even could not lend him the activity which is the gypsy’s birthright.
With an answering cry of triumph, Seth whipped the letter behind him and caught Bartley Bradstone by the throat. For a moment or two the men struggled in that deadly silence. Despair and excitement lent Bartley Bradstone fictitious strength, and as he locked his arms round the gypsy’s lithe form, he exerted every muscle and succeeded in getting him down upon his knee; but as he did so, Seth slipped, as if he had fallen, and, turning like a greyhound, again caught Bartley Bradstone by the throat and laid him full length upon the ground.