“A friend. Not for myself; but for one that be in danger.”
“Who—who’s in danger?” asked the girl, with an eagerness of manner, that did not escape the quick eye of him to whom the interrogatory was addressed.
“A gentleman—a real gentleman. You ought to know who I mean?”
“I ought to know! How sir?”
“You han’t heerd, then, what hae’ happened at Stone Dean, this mornin’?”
Bet made no answer. Her look, while proclaiming a negative, told the presentiment with which the question had inspired her.
“You han’t heerd as how Master Holtspur ha’ been tuk a prisoner, and carried away by the kewreseers o’ Captain Scarthe? You han’t heerd that, eh?”
“Oh!” cried Bet, adding a somewhat more emphatic form of ejaculation. “That then is what he meant. I might have known it. O God—it was that!”
“Who meant? What?”
“Walford, Will Walford, oh!—the villain!”