“Yes—yes—yes,” gasped the terrified woman.
“Very well, then, if you don’t answer truly all I ask of you, and remain quite quiet for the next hour or more, I’ll dash your brains on this floor, and your skull shall be picked up in damnation little bits by some one to-morrow morning.”
“Oh, mercy, sir—mercy. I’m a poor lone woman. Spare my life.”
“Answer then, who else is in the house besides you?”
“Poor old Mrs. Garnett, sir, and—and—Master Gray, sir—if you please, sir.”
“Humph! And where does Master Gray sleep?”
“In—in—the three pair front, sir.”
“Very good. Now, my good woman, I shall just tie you up when I’ve refreshed myself a little.”
Then with a nod at the woman, and a wink, towards Learmont, who was crouching behind a pile of baskets, Britton took another draught from his case bottle, a process which he seemed resolved upon repeating at every stage of the business he had in hand.
He then took the light from the woman’s trembling hand, and seizing her by the hand, he pushed her into the room from whence she had come, and in a few moments tied her securely to the post of a bed which was there.