"Sergeant," he said, "you know your nephew Tom: he's my friend, and I beg you to let me speak to Mr. Malherb there. It's a fearful thing if I'm denied."
Then he lifted his voice to his old master.
"I implore you, sir, to give heed. There's danger threatening Miss Grace—I alone——"
But the other turned and roared him down.
"You hound—you lying rascal; you, that plotted to help this knave Stark! Shall I hear a groom when I may not hear his master? Take him away and shoot him for a traitor to his country!"
"Your daughter, sir!"
"Keep her off your lips, or I'll strangle you with my own hand," bellowed the other. "You're at the bottom of half this cursed business—I know it—I know everything!"
"Her life, I tell you——"
"Is not in your keeping. I'll not hearken to a word from you. Take the damned dog away and let him die as he deserves to die. My horse—my horse!"
Sergeant Bradridge addressed the raving man aside.