"Out with her to the tree," said Herrick, and one of the men bent down, and touched her.
"I'll tell—I'll tell."
"Quickly then."
"Simon sold him to the enemy," the old woman said—"the enemy that's now on the way to make carrion of such as you. He's dead, or if he isn't he's safe in a tower by the frontier close to Larne, and you'll never get him, curse you."
"I know the place, sir," whispered one of the men. "She may be speaking the truth."
The hag had closed her eyes again, but after a few seconds she opened them, and in that short interval she seemed to have forgotten all that had gone before. She started, as though for the first time she realized that men were looking down at her, and she began to curse them in a long string of foul oaths which were truly appalling. Herrick thought she must be shamming sickness, for she suddenly raised herself almost into a sitting posture, and pointing at him with her long, skeleton hand, let loose all the vials of her vituperation upon him, promising him a hell here and damnation of the most horrible and fantastic kind hereafter.
"Duke!—Liar!" she screamed, and her voice was strong for an instant. "Duke!—curse you—wounded man—fates—some day—curse!"
The words were in a descending scale, the last a mere whisper, and then her body heaved as if she would spring to her feet. The next moment she fell backward with a thud—dead!
Herrick turned away with a shudder. Such a death was horrible.
"The world's well rid of her," said Briant.