“I came to see Mr. Bicknell,” muttered the nearly lifeless valet.
“What did you want with me?”
“Wait a bit,” interposed Freney. “Who brought you here? How came you to be standing by that door?”
“Mr. Bicknell's servant showed me the house, and a child brought me to this room.”
“There, sir,” said Freney, turning his head towards
Bicknell, without releasing the strong pressure by which he pinned the other down,—“there, sir, so much for your caution. You told me if I came to this lady's lodgings here, that I was safe, and now here 's this fellow has heard us and everything we 've said, maybe these two hours.”
“I only heard about Newgate,” muttered the miserable Linwood; “I was but a few minutes at the door, and was going to knock. I came from Lord Wall incourt with papers of great importance for Mr. Bicknell. I have them, if you'll let me—”
“Let him get up,” said Miss Daly, calmly.
Freney stood back, and retired between his victim and the door, where he stood, with folded arms and bent brows, watching him.
“He has almost broke in my ribs,” said Linwood, as he pressed his hands to his side, with a grimace of true suffering.