"Do you not fear me?" he cried. "Do you not know that even now I hear the footsteps of the dead?"
"I do not fear you," I said, "but you fear me. Come, Master Elijah Pycroft, who hath been dead and is come to life again, lead me to the room where last night you received the woman called Constance."
He stood still, but I felt his body trembling.
"If you will not," I went on, "I shall begin to threaten. And, mark you, although you pretend to pity me as an ignorant boy, I will perform my threats."
"Ay, and what can you do?" he snarled. "In a minute from now the hell-hags which I have summoned from afar will be here, and then—ha, ha!"
"Before they can come I will e'en drag you through the Pycroft woods," I cried; "ay, and I will drag you to Folkestone town, and then, methinks, we shall see gay doings, Master Pycroft."
I meant what I said, for although I desired much to have quiet speech with him, he had angered me by his obstinacy and his threats. I think he felt this, too, for he said sullenly—
"It shall e'en be as you say."
"Then light your lamp again, Master Pycroft, or Father Solomon, whatever you may be pleased to call yourself," I said.
A minute later the lamp shone again, and then he ascended a broad stairway, I keeping close at his heels and ready for anything he might attempt to do. But he walked straight on. I think by this time he also had become interested to know more about the venturesome lad, whom he had not succeeded in frightening, and who had dared to hint that Elijah Pycroft had never died as had been given out to the world. Be that as it may, he uttered neither snarl nor threat as we threaded the long corridor through which he led me, and ere long we had entered the room of which I had taken such note the night before.