“With your caution,” suggested Learmont, “with but a little of the admirable cunning you have as yet displayed in this business, methinks it might be possible, Master Gray, for you to overreach in some way so dull-witted a villain as this Britton, who, you see, stands so much in the way of your fortunes.”
“If,” muttered Gray, “it can be done at all by me, that poison draught you mentioned is, to my mind, the most ready, and—and—”
“Safe,” added Learmont.
“Well, safe be it,” said Gray. “There is no occasion for a greater risk than necessary.”
“None in the least,” sneered Learmont: “you will then do your best, Master Gray, to rid yourself of this sot, this incubus upon you, this villain, whom I hate as—as—”
“As you hate me!” said Gray, twinkling his small eyes, and peering in the face of Learmont.
“No,” said Learmont; “you are not so dangerous because you are more cautious; but, Jacob Gray, is it not possible that, should you succeed in ridding yourself of this Britton, you may think it worth your while to name some price for the only thing I dread?”
“The child?”
“Yes: think of my words.”
“I will think,” said Gray; “but now I must be gone.”