‘No. There’s a little yard, but the walls are far too high.’
‘They’ll break the door through. If they do, the devils are as likely to kill you as me. I must go upstairs to a window and speak to them. I may do something yet. Sooner than put you in danger I’ll go out and let them do their worst Listen to them! That’s the People, that is! I deserve killing, fool that I am, if only for the lying good I’ve said of them. Let me go up into your room, if it has a window in the front.’
He led up the stairs, and Emma showed him the door of her room—the same in which she had received the visit of Daniel Dabbs. He looked about it, saw the poverty of it. Then he looked at Emma.
‘Good God! Who has hit you?’
There was a great cut on her cheek, the blood was running down upon her dress.
‘Somebody threw a stick,’ she answered, trying to smile. ‘I don’t feel it; I’ll tie a handkerchief on it.’
Again a fit of sobbing seized him; he felt as weak as a child.
‘The cowardly roughs! Give me the handkerchief—I’ll tie it. Emma!’
‘Think of your own safety,’ she replied hurriedly. ‘I tell you I don’t feel any pain. Do you think you can get them to listen to you?’
‘I’ll try. There’s nothing else for it. You stand at the back of the room; they may throw something at me.’