“The title deeds of the Brandon estates!”
“The Brandon estates!” said Potts, in a faltering voice.
“Yes, the Brandon estates; nothing less.”
“And will you then keep silent?”
“I will give you the cord.”
“Will you keep silent?”
“I am your master,” said the other, haughtily, as his burning eyes fixed themselves with a consuming gaze upon the abject wretch before him; “I am your master. I make no promises. I spare you or destroy you as I choose.”
These words reduced Potts to despair. In the depths of that despair he found hope. He started up, defiant. With an oath he sprang to the bell-rope and pulled again and again, till the peals reverberated through the house.
The stranger stood with a scornful smile on his face. Potts turned to him savagely:
“I’ll teach you,” he cried, “that you’ve come to the wrong shop. I’m not a child. Who you are I don’t know and I don’t care. You are the cause of my ruin, and you’ll repent of it.”