Maud then dived her hand in her breast, and produced, with an expression of intense pride and satisfaction, the scrap of paper which Ada had given her, with the faint hope that it might meet the hands of Albert Seyton. She held it out to Gray to read, and as he did so, and fully comprehending the few words it contained, his lips turned to an ashy paleness, and his brain grew dizzy with apprehension.
“He—he has seen this?” he gasped.
“Who?”
“Hartleton!”
“Oh yes; I tell you he wanted it, but he would not tear it from me.”
Gray made a snatch at it, and tore it from the grasp of the poor creature. Maud uttered a loud scream, and Gray, drawing a pistol from his pocket, stood in an attitude of defence, as he heard a confusion of steps upon the stairs.
“Give it to me!” shrieked Maud—“Oh! As you hope for heaven, give it to me!”
A moment’s reflection assured Jacob Gray that not only was he acting indiscreetly, but that he had no time to lose. Hastily concealing the pistol, he handed the paper to Maud, saying—
“Hence, hence; I did but jest.”
The door was immediately flung open, and several heads appeared.