Kit looked at him in a somewhat dazed fashion, but as Mr Ravenscar’s countenance wore a most forbidding expression, he picked up the lantern, and backed out of the cellar, obediently locking the door again, and removing the key. It seemed as though Ravenscar as well as Deborah was mad, and he was quite at a loss to know what to do. He went slowly upstairs again, and since there could be no object in retaining the key to a cell whose inmate refused to be set free, he made his way to Deborah’s side, and twitched her sleeve to attract her attention
She cast him a scorching glance, and turned away, but he followed her into the adjoining saloon, saying gruffly: “Here, you may take this!”
She looked in surprise at the key. “Why, what do you mean? Have you thought better of it? Is he still there?”
“I think he is mad!” said Kit, in an aggrieved tone. “I did try to set him free, but he would not let me! He told me to go to the devil, and said I was to give you back the key with his compliments. I do not know what is to be done. You have ruined everything.”
She took the key, almost as astonished as he was. “He told you to give it back to me?” she repeated. “He would not let you set him free-,”
“No, I tell you! I do not know what is the matter with him. One would say he must be in his cups, but he is not.”
“He means to fight it out with me,” she said, her eyes lighting up. “Well, and so he shall!”
She lost very little time in making her way down to the basement again, carrying this time one of the bedroom candles set out on a table at the foot of the backstairs, and guarding its frail flame from the draughts in the passage with her cupped hand.
Mr Ravenscar looked at her with a flickering smile as she entered his prison, and rose from his chair. “Well, Miss Grantham? What now?”
She shut the door, and stood with her back to it. “Why did you refuse to let my brother release you?”