"Mind your own business, Miss Imperence!" ejaculated the executioner; "and let me mind mine. Now, then—who knocks at the front door?"
Gibbet rose and hastened from the room.
In a few moments he returned, holding in his hand a paper, which he gave to his father.
"Ah! I thought so," said Smithers, as he glanced his eye over the paper: "my friend Dognatch is always in time. Here's the last dying speech, confession, and a true account of the execution of the man that I'm to tuck up presently—all cut and dry, you see. Well—it's very kind of Dognatch always to send me a copy: but I suppose he thinks it's a compliment due to my sitiwation."
With these words Smithers tossed off his tea, rose, and exclaimed, "Now, Gibbet, my boy, we must be off."
"Father, I don't feel equal to it," murmured the hump-back, who seemed fixed to his chair.
"Come—without another word!" cried the executioner, in so terrible a tone that Gibbet started from his seat as if suddenly moved by electricity.
"Uncle—uncle, you will not—you cannot force this poor lad—" began Katherine, venturing upon a last appeal in favour of the hump-back.
"Kate," said the executioner, turning abruptly upon her, while his countenance wore so ferocious an expression of mingled determination and rage, that the young girl uttered an ejaculation of alarm,—"Kate, do not provoke me; or——"
He said no more, but darted on her a look of such dark, diabolical menace, that she sank back, annihilated as it were, into her seat.