“Well—I will try,” returned Old Death. “What do you want to say to me?”
“To remind you that you are an old—very old man, and that you cannot hope to live much longer——”
“Fiend! would you kill me in cold blood!” interrupted Bones, in a sort of shrieking, yelling tone that indicated mingled alarm and rage.
“Had I intended to slay you, I might have done it when you were first brought here as my prisoner,” answered the Black. “Rest satisfied on that head——”
“Then you do not mean to kill me?” exclaimed Old Death, with all the hysterical joy of a coward soul, in spite of his natural and still untamed ferocity.
“Heaven forbid!” ejaculated the Blackamoor.
“There—now ’tis the voice of Tom Rain once again!” cried Old Death, evidently shuddering as he spoke. “But, no—I am a fool—you are the Earl! Yes—tell me—are you not the Earl of Ellingham?”
“No matter who I am,” was the solemn reply. “If you ask me questions, I will immediately leave you.”
“No—don’t go for a few minutes!” exclaimed Old Death, imploringly. “I have been here a month,—yes—for I have counted the visits of your men, who come, as they tell me, every night to bring me food,—and I know that I have been here a month. In all that time I have only exchanged a dozen words with human beings—and—and—this solitude is horrible!”
“You have leisure to ponder on all your crimes,” said the Black.