“Ay, the boy, the cherub, the boy!” cried Britton.
“He is not here,” said Gray, with as much boldness as he could assume.
Learmont gave a smile of contempt as he said,—
“Indeed, he is not here, and yet Jacob Gray is here. That is very probable. Now I tell you he is here, and what is more, he cannot escape. The back of the house is guarded by persons who have orders to cut down whoever attempts to leave it that way. Britton and I came in at the front. We have well searched the lower rooms, so you see we have taken our measures almost as cleverly as Jacob Gray took his when he came to Learmont to whisper in his ear that the boy still lived!”
“Ho! Ho! Ho!” roared the smith, patting Gray on the back. “How feel you, Master Jacob? Does your blood dance merrily through your veins, or have you still some stroke of cunning un-played off that shall put us yet to shame? By hell, if you have, Jacob Gray, I’ll—I’ll give you my head!”
“Agreed,” said Gray.
“Give me the light,” cried Learmont.
He snatched the link from the hand of Britton, and made two strides towards the inner room.
Gray with difficulty suppressed a scream of alarm, but before Learmont could lay hand on the lock, Ada flung the door open, and walked composedly forth.
She was attired in a plain, but neat girl’s dress. A small hooded cloak was clasped round her neck; and now that she was attired in the proper costume of her sex, she looked several years older, and the change in her general appearance was so great that even Jacob Gray would scarcely have recognised her.