“Hold, Britton,” cried Learmont. “You come here for money. Name the sum, and go.”
“Oh, name the sum!” said Britton. “What’s to-day?”
“Friday, my dear Britton,” said Gray. “It’s generally considered an unlucky day, I pray you to take care of yourself, cunning Britton.”
Britton cast a savage scowl upon Gray, as he said,—
“I shall, and mind you be as careful. Friday, is it? Twenty pounds will last me till next Monday, squire.”
“Will they, indeed?” sneered Learmont. “Here they are, then. May I now be indulged with the privacy of my own house?”
“There now,” said Gray, “you hear his worship; why don’t you go, Britton?”
“Because I intend staying out, Jacob Gray,” cried Britton, fiercely.
“Well,” said Gray, rising, “be it so, but hearken to me, Squire Learmont. If I find this ruffian upon my track, I will be revenged with safety to myself—bitterly revenged—now beware!”
So saying, Jacob Gray left the room, with an expression of countenance perfectly demoniac.