“No, nor don’t want,” said the man. “Come now, listen to reason, Sir Francis Hartleton wants to see you particularly.”
“Aye, aye!” said Maud, “that’s a fine device. Tell me where the child is, will you?”
“Come now,—it ain’t far,” said the man. “Here have I been hunting all over London for you nearly a day and half now, and when I find you, you won’t come. I tell you Sir Francis means to do something for you.”
“Can he restore the dead?”
“Not exactly.”
“Ah! Ah! Ah! He can—he can. So now I know you are no messenger of his. You come from Andrew Britton,—why? To kill me; but it is of no use—of no use, I tell you. You, and he, and everybody know well that he is to die before I do.”
Maud now laid hold of the rails of the house and resolutely refused to move. The man spoke in a perplexed tone as he said,—
“Come—come now, don’t be foolish. I must get some help to take you, whether you like it or not, if you won’t come now quietly.”
“Beware,” said Maud.
The man gave a start, as the poor creature showed him the glittering blade of a knife she had concealed in her bosom. There was a pause of a few minutes, and then Gray heard the man say,—