The old man’s face wore a look of fury she had never seen before.
‘Little wretch!’ he shrieked, seizing her by the shoulders. ‘So this is how you repay me for all I’ve done for you! You’d rob me, rob me!’ he shrieked, raising his voice and burning with passion; ‘rob a poor old man who’s kept you from the workhouse, you brat! Curse you, what have you taken? Quick—quick.’
He shook the child violently in his rage, as though he expected gold to fall from the folds of her dress.
‘Oh, don’t, grandfather—don’t,’ moaned Gertie, white with terror. ‘I haven’t touched anything—indeed I haven’t.
‘Who put you up to this? Who set you to rob a poor old man? Speak, you little devil, or I’ll wring your neck.’
He seized the child in his blind rage by the throat so violently that she uttered a shriek of pain.
The next second something sprang at the old man—something which with fierce eyes had watched the scene from a corner of the room.
As Gertie shrieked out, the huge mastiff Lion uttered a fierce growl, and, springing at the child’s adversary, seized him by the throat.
Gertie leapt to her feet. ‘Lion, Lion,’ she cried. ‘Oh, don’t, don’t.’
Josh Heckett, old as he was, was still a powerful man. He gripped the dog, and they struggled fiercely for a moment.