“You are very considerate,” said Gray. “And now you must recollect that my absence from London must be limited. There is danger in a longer stay.”
“Away, then, with you at once.”
“What! leave Learmont with nothing but sounding promises, and an empty purse? No, Britton. I must again see Squire Learmont, before I take my leave of this place, which I hate.”
“True,” said the smith. “And before you go, there is another small matter in which I claim your assistance.”
“What is that?”
“Beyond that ancient door is a sight which must be placed beyond human recognition.”
Gray turned ghastly pale, as he said, “Britton, your nerves are strong. You will feel little in—in—disposing securely of whatever is there that would blast the gaze of another.”
“Jacob Gray,” said Britton in a determined tone, “you share the advantages. You have by your cunning so hedged yourself in with precautions, that I, even I, feel how impolitic it would be to scatter your brains with yon forge-hammer.”
Gray started to his feet, as he exclaimed:
“You surely did not mean to murder me?”