“I swear to you——”
Violet’s voice was choked with tears. She fell down at his feet upon the bare, dusty floor, and lifted her pale face and pleading eyes, from which the tears were streaming. It was a sight to touch a heart of stone. But this villain’s heart was harder than stone, in fact, he had no heart to touch.
“Oh, hear me and believe me!” she moaned, wringing her hands in wild supplication. “I will keep my word. I swear it! I will send you the money—whatever amount you claim—and will swear by everything sacred to keep the secret of this place. Oh, believe me, sir, I beg of you! Indeed, I am incapable of false dealing.”
The greedy look in the small eyes deepened; he clinched and unclinched his damp, unwholesome-looking hands.
“I really can not do it, my dear,” he repeated, firmly. “And, if I am not mistaken, there is Warrington now, come to make a call upon you!”
For a loud ring at the gate bell had broken in upon the doctor’s words. Violet’s face grew stern and set, and her eyes flashed fire.
“I will see him face to face, and he shall set me free, or”—she caught her breath with a stifled groan—“there will be some dreadful deed done. I will not endure this persecution any longer!”
The words died upon her lips; for there before her, facing her with an evil smile, was Gilbert Warrington!
