"You might ha' made sure I'd come that instant, miss," answered Jim, his face brightening with excitement and delight. "I knowed who 'twas from, well enough, though 'twas but a line as a man might say. I ain't had it an hour, an' here I am, ready and willing for your job, be it what it may!"
"You're a bold fellow, I know," said Maud, "but it's a desperate undertaking. If you don't like it, say so."
Jim swore a horrible oath, and then drew his hand across his lips as though to wipe away its traces.
"Look'ee here, miss," he muttered in a hoarse thick whisper. "If you says to me, Jim, says you, go and rob that there church--see, now, I'd have the wards of the big key in wax, ah! this weary arternoon. If you says to me, says you, Jim, go and cut that there parson's throat, I've got a old knife in my pocket as I wouldn't want to sharpen afore the job was done, and the parson too, for good an' all!"
There was a peculiar grace in the setting on of Maud's head, especially in the firm lines of her mouth and chin. Though she looked even paler than usual, her rare beauty, always somewhat resolute and defiant in character, never showed to greater advantage than now.
"I won't speak of reward to you," she said, very clearly and distinctly, "though you shall name your own price, and be paid at your own time. Listen--I have an enemy--a bitter enemy who threatened me--actually dared to threaten me last night--who would hesitate at nothing to do me an injury."
"Blast him!" muttered Jim ferociously. "Leave 'un to me, miss, leave 'un to me!"
She took no heed of his interruption.
"That enemy," she continued, "must be got out of my way."
The sweat stood on her listener's brow.