“Perhaps he may; and should it be so, he will make a ‘will o’ the wisp’ of you, Simpson.”
“He’ll be hanged first, Peggy, take my word for that. He’ll not be shot, nor drowned: he’s born to be hanged.”
“And what are you born for, you coward, that, at such a time as this, you should be quarrelling with me?”
“I’m born to be his informer; and, before long, I’ll have you both up before the Squire, for all this piece of work.”
Margaret did not like this banter; it looked as if they already knew that Will Laud was the intruder. She was somewhat less ready at her replies than usual, and felt too great a fear that she might commit herself. She tried, therefore, to turn the subject.
“My master, Robin, desires me to give you some supper.”
“Thank your master, but I have had mine; and, but that I hoped to hear what the doctor said to the poor young man upstairs, I should long ago have been on board my boat.”
The greatest cowards are not easily silenced when they find themselves able to browbeat an adversary with impunity, and that adversary a woman.
“Well, Margaret, if you won’t tell me, I’ll tell you whom you met upon the shore. You met one whom Robin says the foul fiend has raised to life again.”