Tramplara made no further remonstrance. With a hand that shook partly with anger and partly with fear, he complied.
'Very well,' said Herring, 'now go. Pick up your hat, it is in the corner, and take yourself off.'
Tramplara sulkily obeyed. When he reached the door he turned, his face white, his hands quivering with passion.
'The time will come, Mr. Herring, when it will be in my power to repay you this, and then, by God, I swear——'
'What do you swear?' Herring held up the black ruler.
Tramplara shut the door, and was gone.
CHAPTER VIII.
CICELY.
When John Herring turned to look at Mr. Battishill, he found the old gentleman fallen back in his chair, his face distorted, and scarcely conscious. He saw at once what had happened. The excitement had brought on a stroke.
Herring went into the kitchen and called the maid.