Britton made a movement to follow him, but the squire laid his hand upon his arm, and said,—
“No—not now, Britton. We must devise some better means yet of destroying, with perfect safety, this Jacob Gray.”
“Curses on him!” growled Britton. “Did you hear how he taunted me?”
“I did.”
“Then, I say I must have his blood.”
“You shall.”
“I will—I have sworn it—I will take the hateful life of Jacob Gray.”
“Britton, we understand each other. This Gray is as great an enemy to you as he is to me.”
“I know he is,” growled Britton. “You need not tell me that. And who, think you, is in London, and raving through the streets to every one she meets, about the Old Smithy, and a murder?”
“She? Who mean you?”