Levi was silent a moment, digesting the information. Then, “What is all this?” he asked plaintively. “What messenger d’you want? We’ve none of your messengers.”
“The messenger is Tom, Captain Wilmer’s negro,” I answered. “We know that you’ve seized him. It’s no use lying to us.”
“I’ll come up and talk,” he said.
“No, you won’t!” I replied, scenting a trap. “If you come too close I’ll put a bullet through you. I’ll give you five minutes to decide. Move off!”
He drew off sullenly, and disappeared round the corner of the house.
The girl still rocked herself to and fro, and after a moment of thought I left the window—at some risk—and touched her on the shoulder. “If it were bad news,” I said, “they would not have kept it from you.”
She looked up at me, a light in her eyes. “Say it again,” she said.
I repeated it. “If I could believe that!” she cried, and clapped her hands to her face.
“I can see no other meaning in it,” I argued. “If he brought bad news, would he come so early?”
She stood up. “I must know!” she cried passionately. “I must know! I will go down! I will make them tell me! I will wring it from them! Am I to hide here while they know all?” And falling impetuously upon the litter which we had piled upon the trap-door she dragged away the uppermost case, heavy as it was, before I could hinder her. She seized the next, and strove to move it.