“Time, Ada—time is precious!” cried Gray.
“To you probably—but I must obey you.”
“You have chosen wisely,” said Gray. “Hear me. My own life hangs upon a single thread. If you had persevered in obstinately refusing to side with me, I should have killed you for my own preservation, and cast your lifeless body into the same place of secrecy where we will soon repair to.”
“Where mean you?”
“That dark cell in which you have passed some gloomy hours. The entrance to it is by a panel in the wainscotting of the room below, which fits so truly that none, not previously aware of it, would suspect its existence. When I came first here I found it by an accident. If we are found there, we shall be found together and by any crying to me, you would benefit nothing. All I require of you now is silence.”
Gray now again walked to the window, and this time he started back with a loud cry.
“They are coming,” he said; “look, Ada, be satisfied that neither of these men in any degree resemble him you so much wish to see.”
Ada sprang to the window, and at some considerable distance off, crossing the fields, towards the house, she saw three men who were strangers to her.
“You see they are armed,” said Gray.
“They are—I know them not. How can they be enemies of mine?”