She was leaning against the wall of the passage, and David could just see the defiance and agitation on her face by the light of the gas-lamp outside.
He himself gave a low whistle.
'Well, that's rather strong, isn't it, Miss Purcell?'
'It's mean—it's abominable,' she cried. 'I vowed I'd stop it. But I don't know what he'll do to me—kill me, most likely.'
'Nobody shall do anything to you,' said David, decidedly. 'You're a brick. But look here—can you tell me anything more?'
She commanded herself with great difficulty, and told all she knew. David leant against the wall beside her, twisting a meditative lip. The situation was ominous, certainly. He had always known that his tenure was precarious, but from various indications he had supposed that it would be some years yet before his side of the street was much meddled with. That old fox! He must go and see Mr. Ancrum.
A passion of hate and energy rose within him. Somehow or other he would pull through.
When Lucy had finished the tale of her eavesdroppings, the young fellow shook himself and stood erect.
'Well, I am obliged to you, Miss Purcell. And now I'll just go straight off and talk to somebody that I think'll help me. But I'll see you to Market Street first.'
'Oh!—somebody will see us!' she cried in a fever, 'and tell father.'