She showed no nervousness, no haste, no sign of trepidation as she stepped from the room, and her voice was soft, and musical, and quite calm as she paused and said,—
“Good evening, Mr. Gray. I have put all Harry’s things in order.”
Then curtseying to Learmont, who stood almost directly in her way, she passed across the outer room, and disappeared through the broken doorway.
For several minutes not a word was spoken by either of the three men there assembled. Oh, what precious minutes they were to Jacob Gray!
Learmont then, without a word, entered the inner room. In a few moments he returned with his face distorted by passion, and placing his sword’s point against the throat of Gray, he said,—
“Where is the boy?”
“Not here—on my soul not here!” cried Gray, trembling with fear that Learmont’s passion might get the better of his prudence, and that by one thrust of his weapon he might shed his life blood.
“Where is he?”
“Where is he?” echoed Gray, to whom each moment gained for Ada thoroughly to escape, was equal to a drop of blood to his heart.
“Answer me!” shrieked Learmont.