“If your confession is to be of any avail to you, it must be complete,” said Haldane gravely. “Of whose faces do you wish to be rid?”
“It’s a woman and a child,” said the man, his voice sinking lower every time he spoke, yet it had a kind of angry ring in it, as if he appealed indignantly against some injustice. “There were several more, and why should these torment me? Nay, why should they haunt me at all? I only did my duty. There be other folks they should go to—them that make such deeds duty. I’m not to blame—but I can’t get rid of those faces! Take them away, and I’ll give you silver—gold—only take them away!”
The probable solution of the puzzle struck Haldane as she sat there, looking earnestly into the agitated features of her visitor.
“You must confess all,” she said, “the names and every thing you know. I go to mix a potion which may help you. Bethink you, till I come again, of all the details of your sin, that you may speak honestly and openly thereof.”
And she passed behind the screen. One glance at the white face of the girl lying there told Haldane that her guess was true. She knelt down, and set her lips close to Ermine’s ear.
“You know the voice,” she whispered shortly. “Who is he?”
“The Bishop’s sumner, who arrested us.”
“And helped to thrust you forth at the gate?”
Ermine bowed her head. Haldane rose, and quickly mixing in a cup a little of two strong decoctions of bitter herbs, she returned to her visitor.
“Drink that,” she said, holding out the cup, and as he swallowed the bitter mixture, she muttered—