“To warn thee as they mean to lay wait for thee, and do thee a mischief.”
“Who says so?”
“I know it,” said Tom: “so if you’ll tak’ a good bit of advice thou’lt stay at home, and not go out.”
“It’s a trick—a trap,” cried Richard. “If it were true, you’re not the man to come and tell me.”
“Why not?” said Tom bluntly.
“Because you hate me, and believe I’ve taken away your wretched wench.”
“Damn thee!” cried Tom, seizing him by the arm and throat; and as he brought the young fellow to his knees, quite paralysing his effort to get his hand into Iiis breast; “thou may’st say what thee likes again me; but if thee speaks ill of her I can’t bear it; so I warn thee. Hate thee I do, and yet I come to tell thee of danger, and—”
A faint shriek made Tom start, for, pale as death, Eve Pelly rushed to Richard’s help, and clutched at Tom Podmore’s sturdy arms, which dropped at her touch as if those of Eve had been talismanic.
“Aw raight, Miss,” he said smiling. “I wean’t hurt him; but I come to do him good, and he made me mad.”
“Mad, yes,” cried Richard, who had regained his feet, and now drew a pistol. “You were mad to come here; but I’m ready for you and the rest of your rascally crew, and for all your malicious traps and plans.”