“A good notion,” cried Norton. “After all, you have a head on your shoulders, Waghorn. Methinks the lady’s face hath an anxious look.”
“Sir,” said Hilary, drawing herself up, “no maiden could listen to such words as you have forced me to hear to-day without showing some sign of anxiety.”
Waghorn watched her with the eyes of a hawk, and his solemn voice broke the brief silence which had fallen upon them.
“I adjure you, Mistress, by all you hold most sacred, to speak the truth. Have you seen Captain Gabriel Harford?”
The girl breathed hard, but kept silence, gazing like one transfixed into Waghorn’s keen eyes.
“Speak, Mistress,” he repeated. “Have you seen Captain Gabriel Harford?”
“I saw him—yesterday,” gasped Hilary.
“We know that. Have you seen him this morning?”
There was a minute’s pause, while in agony she tried to see some way out of the dilemma. But way there was none.
“You have seen him?” urged Waghorn, merciless as any Inquisitor.