“Stoop down, squire, and leave me to manage it.”
Learmont mechanically obeyed him. The door from whence the gleam of light had issued, opened, and the woman of the house entered the shop.
“There’s that bar down again, I declare,” she said. “It’s always a slipping down, just as I am going to bed too.”
A faint scream burst from her lips as Britton suddenly placed his hand over her mouth, saying—
“Make any noise, and I’ll smash your brains out. Be quiet and I won’t.”
Terror then kept the woman from screaming, and when Britton released her, she sank upon her knees, with the candle she carried in her hand.
“Mercy—mercy, sir,” she faltered. “Oh, have mercy.”
“Hush,” said Britton. “How many people are in this house?”
“Three—three—sir, your worship. Oh! Spare my life.”
“Do you see this?” said the smith, holding the cleaver within an inch of her face.