The mother shuddered.
“Quick—quick!” cried Gray; “my life is now counted by moments!”
“Hunt him—hunt him! Hurrah!” cried the voices of the pursuers. “Hunt the murderer!”
“You hear!” cried Gray. “Quick—quick!”
With a face of agonised terror the mother drew the cot, without awakening the fastly-slumbering child, towards the wall.
“Now,” cried Gray, “remember—your child’s life is at stake: if I escape, it escapes. If I am taken, it dies.”
“But I may not be able to save you,” said the mother, in imploring accents.
“The child then dies,” said Gray.
“Guard the entrance to the court well,” cried a loud, authoritative voice from the outside of the house. “Search every one of these hovels, from top to bottom.”
“You hear?” said Gray, trembling with terror, and scarcely able to speak from the parched state of his lips.