I told her. At the vision my words conjured up her strained nerves gave way, and she broke into laughter as cruel as it was sweet. Peal after peal rang through the haunted wood, and increased the eeriness of the place.
“The knot that I tied he will untie directly,” I said. “If we would reach Jamestown first, we had best be going.”
“Night is upon us, too,” said the minister, “and this place hath the look of the very valley of the shadow of death. If the spirits walk, it is hard upon their time—and I prefer to walk elsewhere.”
“Cease your laughter, madam,” I said. “Should a boat be coming up this stream, you would betray us.”
I went over to Diccon, and in a silence as grim as his own cut the rope which bound his hands, which done we all moved through the deepening gloom to where we had left the horses, Jeremy Sparrow going on ahead to have them in readiness. Presently he came hurrying back. “The Italian is gone!” he cried.
“Gone!” I exclaimed. “I told you to tie him fast to the saddle!”
“Why, so I did,” he replied. “I drew the thongs so tight that they cut into his flesh. He could not have endured to pull against them.”
“Then how did he get away?”
“Why,” he answered, with a rueful countenance, “I did bind him, as I have said; but when I had done so, I bethought me of how the leather must cut, and of how pain is dreadful even to a snake, and of the injunction to do as you would be done by, and so e'en loosened his bonds. But, as I am a christened man, I thought that they would yet hold him fast!”
I began to swear, but ended in vexed laughter. “The milk's spilt. There 's no use in crying over it. After all, we must have loosed him before we entered the town.”