“I do not know,” she cried; “you have seemed to be my friend. But how do I know that it is not all simply to compass my destruction at last? You have brought into my house that person,” looking at me, “who has persecuted me. You promised me that I should be free from him. And now you want to set a bloodhound on my track—as if I must be driven into my grave, and not allowed to go in peace.”
“I assure you, Leesy, I had no idea that you regarded Nora’s father with so much dislike. I have no object in the world in troubling you with him. I promise you that no word of mine shall give him the clue to your present circumstances, nor to the fact that he has a child living, if he is ignorant of it. You shall be protected—you shall have peace and comfort. What I would like is, that you shall give me a history of his life, his habits, character, where he lived, what was his business, etc.; and I will give you my reasons for wishing the information. A circumstance has come to light which connects him with an affair which I am investigating—that is, if he is the person I think he is—a sort of a doctor, I believe?”
Miss Sullivan did not answer the question so skillfully put; she still watched us with shining, half-sullen eyes, as if ready to put forth a claw from the velvet, if we approached too near.
“Come, Leesy, you must tell me what I want to hear.” Mr. Burton’s air was now that of a master. “Time is precious. I can not wait upon a woman’s whim. I have promised you—and repeat it, upon my honor—that no annoyance or injury shall come to you through what you may tell me. If you prefer to answer me quietly to being compelled to answer before a court, all is right. I must know what I desire about this man.”
“Man, Mr. Burton! Call him creature.”
“Very well, creature, Leesy. You know him better than I do, and if you say he is a creature, I suppose I may take it for granted. His name is—”
“Or was, George Thorley.”
When the name was spoken, I gave a start which attracted the attention of both my companions.
“You probably know something about him, Mr. Redfield,” remarked the girl.
“George Thorley, of Blankville, who used to have an apothecary shop in the lower part of the village, and who left the place some three years ago, to escape the talk occasioned by a suspicious case of malpractice, in which he was reported to be concerned?”