Jacob Gray started, and fixed his eyes intently upon poor Maud’s face, for an awful doubt, suggested by his shivering fear, came across his mind, that he might be falling into some trap laid for him by the cunning of the magistrate; and that she who asked of him so strange a question might be only aping the malady she seemed to suffer under.
“Don’t you know Gray?” he said sharply, at the same time fixing his keen, ferret-looking eyes upon the door, and then suddenly turning them to her.
Maud shook her head; and there was something so genuine in her negative, that Gray drew a long breath, and felt re-assured that he was at the moment safe.
“Oh, Gray!” he said. “Who mentioned him! He is dead—dead long ago.”
“Dead?”
“Yes; there is now no such person. So Sir Frederick—I mean Frank Hartleton, mentioned this Gray?”
“All have mentioned him,” said Maud. “’Tis very strange, but I am asked by all if I know Gray!”
“Indeed! By—by Hartleton?”
“Yes, by him. He says that Gray is the worst villain of all. The Lord of Learmont is scarce worse than Gray. Where is he, with his dark scowl? I have not seen him for some days, that is, since he would not have the fire put out. They said he and the savage smith killed Dame Tatton, and took the child away; but I know better, ha—ha—ha! Poor Mad Maud knows better.”
“Then Learmont did not do so?” said Gray, in a soft insinuating tone.