“And I a more dreaded secret,” still whispered Gray.
“I—I consent,” said Learmont. “I consent.”
CHAPTER VII.
The Conference, Continued.—Mutual Security.—The Oaken Door and the Strange Appearance.—Mysteries Thicken.
For several minutes neither of the three men whose crimes had brought them into such strange fellowship, spoke. They regarded each with the most strange and mixed emotions. Upon the face of the haughty Lord of Learmont were pride, hate, and fear, each struggling for mastery. The smith looked, as he always looked, brutally ferocious, but upon this occasion there was an air of exultant villany upon his swarthy visage, which made him like a fiend in human shape. Gray, the cautious and politic villain, with just sufficient relenting in his cold heart to make him stop short at the consummation of some dark deed, while he waded recklessly through all the preliminary proceedings to it; he, too, wore a triumphant look, but it was one strangely mingled with suspicion and doubt, whether or not some sudden occurrence would damp his joy, and turn his self-congratulations to laments.
He was the first to break the silence.
“Had we not now better separate?” he said. “We can see you on the morrow, squire.”
“There is yet one thing which remains to be considered,” said Learmont, in a low voice.
“What is that?” cried the smith.
“When we are all gone, may not some one’s curiosity be prompted to visit this house?”