"It is for this gentleman to decide," said the lady, still gazing upon Tomlinson's countenance. "You may well suppose that I am desirous to recover the liberty which has thus been infamously violated;—but if you, sir, possess one germ of generous feeling—one spark of honour—one gleam of humanity in your soul, do not—do not lend yourself to this infamy! Command these men to restore me to freedom—they cannot refuse to obey you! Oh! sir—hear me—do not avert your head: hear me—hear me, I implore you!"
"This is quite enough of folly for one time," ejaculated the Resurrection Man: "I have been an idiot myself to listen to it so long. Mr. Tomlinson, are you prepared to receive the signature of this lady to the deed that will transfer to her husband a certain portion of her property?"—then, approaching his lips to the stock-broker's ear, he murmured in a low whisper, "Hesitate—and I denounce your late clerk within an hour!"
These words operated like magic upon the weak-minded and timid James Tomlinson. He no longer beheld the supplicating woman before him: he only saw his own danger.
Accordingly, he advanced towards the table, drew forth a document from his pocket, and said, in a cold tone, "I am ready to receive that lady's signature."
The Resurrection Man produced an ink-bottle and pens (with which he had purposely provided himself beforehand) from his pocket; and placed them upon the table.
Tomlinson seated himself in the chair, and proceeded to fill up the paper.
"In whose favour is the transfer to be made?" he demanded.
"Then, sir, you are determined to league with my oppressors?" said Viola, in a tone expressive of concentrated feelings of indignation and despair.
"Madam, I am unfortunately compelled—"
"Say no more, sir," interrupted the lady, with a contemptuous curl of the lip. "If you came hither a villain, I must be mad indeed to hope to make you an honest man by any reasoning of mine."