Blake paid no attention, except when some sharp and unexpected note in the old man's voice produced a tingling of the nerves.
Shortly after supper, Blake declared his readiness to go to bed. He was shown into a sort of shed room, separated by a thin partition from the room which he had just quitted. The old man placed a spluttering candle on the hearth, and, expressing the hope that his guest would pass a quiet and peaceful night, withdrew.
Blake lay unable to sleep. Once the spluttering candle caused him to spring up in bed. Suddenly his ears, extremely sensitive with his nervousness, caught the sounds of a whispered conversation.
"It won't do to shed blood," said the old man. "It won't do, for we made a mighty narrow escape the last time. It's impossible to get blood stains out of the house.
"I b'l'eve them saddlebags air full uv money," the hag replied.
"I don't doubt that, and we've got to have it."
"How air you goin' ter git it?"
"Poison him. I wasn't a sort of doctor all these years for nothing."
"You never was no doctor ter hurt."