“No, sir. We had a sort of scuffle about who should stand in the passage, and he ran away.”
“Ah, that is not in his favour,” thought Sir Francis. “My poor Ada! Your best affections are thrown away. You may go now, but let me see you in the morning with a report of your night’s work.”
The man departed, and Sir Francis Hartleton remained for some time in melancholy thought.
“Before the week, expires,” he said, “I must go myself and arrest Jacob Gray, ostensibly for the murder of Vaughan. I may find some written paper of importance. Well, well, it must be so, Ada, your fortunes hang upon the events of the next four or five days.”
CHAPTER C.
Learmont’s Visit to the Chequers.—The Sleeping Smith.
By nine o’clock, according to his appointment with Andrew Britton, Learmont was in the park. His face was dreadfully pale—his limbs shook under him as he gladly availed himself of one of the wooden seats on which to rest his wearied and exhausted frame.
“When will this end?” he muttered. “Four nights now without repose—I am sinking into the grave; yet this last night, with its feverish dreams, and awful spectral visitations, has been much the worst I ever passed. Surely it must have arisen from my great anxiety just now concerning Jacob Gray, and when he is dead I shall have some peace. Yes, then, surely, I shall feel much relieved, but not till then—not till then. ’Tis the time, and yet Andrew Britton comes not. Dare he refuse to obey my summons? Or is he sleeping off some deep drunkenness of last evening, and deaf to time? The sot! I cannot do without him in this matter, for Gray may be armed, or he may even procure assistance. We must be in force sufficient to make sure work. Let me think. Yes—yes. ’Twere far better to kill him in his own abode than in mine. Of what use is his confession to him, unless placed somewhere where it may be easily found? None whatever. I shall be able easily to lay my hand upon it, and when I have that document once fairly in my grasp, I shall feel myself again. I and Britton will go at midnight, and make our way into the house as best we can. No lock can stand the practised skill of the smith; and, from the ancient grudge he has to Jacob Gray, he will enter into this affair with a good will. I am sure he will. Moreover, I can inflame his passion ere we go.”
Learmont began to get very impatient, as Britton did not make his appearance; and, after waiting a full hour beyond the specified time, he rose from the seat, and, with a bitter execration on his lips, he walked slowly in the direction in which Britton must come in proceeding from the Chequers.
Still the squire met him not, and finally, he left the park, by Storey’s Gate, and walked on until he came within sight of the ancient hotel in which the unconscious Britton was lying fast asleep, with no great prospect of arousing himself for some hours to come.