Then all at once Murdoch's calmness was gone. He shook in their grasp.
"For God's sake!" he cried, "don't touch it! Don't do it a harm! It's a mistake. It has nothing to do with your trade. It would be no hurt to you if it were known to the whole world. For God's sake, believe me!"
"We've heerd a different mak' o' tale fro' that," said Reddy, laughing.
"It's a lie—a lie! Who told it?"
"Jem Haworth," he was answered. "Jem Haworth, as it wur made fur."
He began to struggle with all his strength. He cried out aloud and sprang up and broke loose and fought with the force of madness.
"You shall pay for it," he shrieked, and three to one as they were, he held them for a moment at bay.
"Gi' him th' knob-stick!" cried one. "At him wi' it!"
It was Reddy who aimed the blow at him,—a blow that would have laid him a dead man among them,—but it never fell, for he sprang forward with a mighty effort and struck the bludgeon upward, and as it fell with a crash at the opposite side of the room, they heard, even above the tumult of their struggle, a rush of heavy feet, a voice every man among them knew, and the sound they most dreaded—the sharp report of a pistol.