“Dare not?” said Gray, trembling.
“Yes; dare not were my words. Now, I will make to you a proposal. Trust me; tell me all, who and what I am. Tell me all, and I will forgive injuries, and perchance do your bidding.”
“No, no, I cannot tell you yet,” said Gray. “I wish you one day to know all—when I have my gold.”
“Am I to be the slave of your avarice?”
“Call it so, if you will.”
“Who am I?”
“I cannot tell you.”
“Who were those men who sought your life? Was the name of one Andrew Britton.”
Gray absolutely shrieked as Ada pronounced the name of the smith, which it will be recollected she had heard from Mad Maud on Westminster-bridge.
“A—what is this—what do you mean? Who—what devil told you—speak—Ada—speak. Have the—the dead risen? Speak, or you will drive me mad!”