"Did your poor mother get to sleep peacefully at night, after working all day for you?" inquired Mr. Whittle fiercely. "You don't answer; but you know she didn't. You know she spent the night in wrangling with your father to induce him to give her money that she might buy you more ribbons and millinery and dry goods; and kid gloves, probably, although your brother Bill was out at his toes, and hadn't so much as a cotton handkercher; and how your mother went on when your husband came courting you! He wasn't good enough for you then, whoever he was; though I'll bet he thinks he's too good for you now, whoever he is; and what a time you must have had borrowing silverware and chairs for the wedding! I've been married, and I know. Your tired mother hoped that when her children grew up they would relieve her, and love her, and be good to her; but I'll bet you find fault because she didn't 'do' more for you; and that your brother Bill, who ran away because you had all the pie in the house, is taking care of her, providin' she aint dead from bother and too much work, which is likely. And after all this trouble in your behalf, look at you now!"
The little woman seemed to be paying some attention to what he was saying, for she looked at him timidly out of the corners of her black eyes a few times, and occasionally forgot to wring her hands and cry.
"Look at you now, I say! Your health has gone off after your beauty, for you seem to have neither with you, and I find you wandering around at night with a Thief. A great fall you've had, sister, providin' you ever were young and pretty, for I was never acquainted with a worse-looking woman than you are; and if you knew my wife you would be very indignant, for she has the reputation of being a Terror for looks. When I was younger I fell in love with every girl I met, and had no relief until they married; then I soon got over it, for you ought to know how they fade under such circumstances; but you are worse than the rest of them; you are so ugly that I feel sorry for you. Honestly, I wonder that you do not blush in my presence; and I am not handsome, God knows. I really feel sorry for you, but in connection with your friend Prowler you are annoying an amiable and a worthy gentleman, who happens to be a friend of Mr. Blood's, the party sitting opposite you; and I fear he does not feel sorry for you. A little less of that word 'gentlemen,' sister, if you please."
The woman was appealing to them again as before: "Gentlemen! In the name of God! I appeal to you."
"Promise to take your friend Prowler, and leave this country," Mr. Whittle continued, "and never return, and you shall go free; but if you refuse—Blood!"
Tug sprang up and glared savagely at his meek little partner, at the same time advancing toward him.
"You sha'n't satisfy that devilish disposition of yourn by shooting a woman in the back when I'm around, you cut-throat," he said. "Haven't I always been ready to join you in putting men out of the way, and haven't I enjoyed the pleasure of it with you? Then why do you want to take the credit of this job to yourself, and enjoy it alone? You must wait, Blood, until she speaks. We may forgive her, providin' she speaks up cheerful and don't attempt to deceive us."
Again Tug pretended to take a dangerous weapon from his companion, standing between Davy and the prisoner while about it; after which he regarded him for a few moments in contemptuous silence.
"It's your tongue, sister, and not your tears, as will do you good in this difficulty," Tug said, in answer to a fresh burst of grief from the woman. "I'll give you five minutes to decide between tongue and tears. At the end of that time, if it's tears, the cravings of that bad man in the corner shall be satisfied. Blood, where is the watch you took from the store? Hain't got it? My guess is that you've lost it gambling, as usual. Well, I'll count three hundred seconds, sister, since we have no watch. One, two, three; here we go."
Tug looked reverently up at the ceiling; and appeared to be engaged in counting for two or three minutes, occasionally looking at the woman and then at Silas, who thought Tug had been counting at least half an hour already.