"You'll excuse me, sir, but I don't think I have the pleasure of your acquaintance.... My lord, I grant you circumstances are against me, but I give you my word——Bah, what's my word worth? I tell you I am not a thief. Guilty, or not guilty? If I plead not guilty it must all come out, and her reputation will be gone forever." He sat up in bed and called with a loud voice: "Guilty, my lord!"
From across the road, in the dead silence that followed, Ellison could hear Merton singing. The song he had chosen was, "Come, live with me and be my love." Evidently Murkard was listening too.
"That voice!" he said slowly. "Now, where the devil have I heard that voice?"
"Lie down, old chap, and try and get some sleep. That'll do you more good than any singing."
Like a little child Murkard did as he was ordered, and in five minutes was fast asleep again. Ellison made everything safe in the hut, and then went quietly back to his own house. Merton had stopped singing, and was now holding a skein of wool for Esther to wind. There was a look on her face that Ellison could not quite understand. It troubled him, and yet he could not exactly tell why.
"Thanks for your music, Merton," he said, as he seated himself in a chair; "I could hear it across the way."
"How is your patient to-night?"
"Asleep now, but he's been very restless."
Merton removed one of his hands to disentangle the wool.
"I suppose you will get rid of the man when he's well enough to go? In my opinion it's hardly safe for Mrs. Ellison to have such a fellow about the place."