“Hang me if I know what you are talking about,” cried Richard.
“Bah! fool, throw off your disguise,” cried Mrs Glaire. “If you will be a villain be a bold one, and not a mean, despicable, paltry, cowardly liar. There, go; she has come. Your spies managed well, but they could not foresee that the poor foolish girl would miss you—that you would be a few minutes too late, nor that we should return home early because I was unwell.”
“Here, I’m not going to stop and hear this mad folly,” cried Richard, with his hand upon the door.
“No; go!” cried Mrs Glaire; “but I curse you.”
“Aunt!” shrieked Eve, clinging to her.
“Stand aside, Eve,” cried Mrs Glaire, who was white with passion. “Go—go, Richard. It was Daisy Banks who left here. She came to seek you, and she has gone to find you at the works. Go, my son, go; the road is easy and broad, and if it ends in ruin and death—”
“Death!” cried Richard, recoiling.
“Yes, death, for there is mischief abroad.”
“Bah! I’ll hear no more of your mad drivel,” cried the young man savagely. “I’ve heard too much;” and, flinging open the door, he rushed out.
“Aunt, aunt, what have you done?” cried Eve, piteously.