"So I supposed. You can judge from my way of living whether I am likely to have any for you."
"You don't appear to be living in luxury. However, it costs something to keep body and soul together even in this den. Of course, you have some money. However little it is, I want it."
"Then you will be disappointed."
"Where do you keep your money?" demanded Lyman Taylor, roughly.
"Even if I had any. I wouldn't tell you!" said the brave old man.
"Look here, old man, no trifling! Either you will find some money for me, or I will choke you!"
He got down on one knee and stooped menacingly over the hermit.
At that moment Mark Manning, who had returned from his errand, reached the doorway, and stood a surprised and indignant witness of this exciting scene.
Old Anthony struggled, but ineffectually in the grasp of the ruffian who had attacked him. Even if he had not been disabled by disease he would not have been a match for Lyman Taylor, who was at least twenty-five years younger.
"Don't touch me, you scoundrel!" said Anthony, whose spirit exceeded his bodily strength.