Lamport laughed a little. "One question at a time. The story was not a trumped-up lie, though I suppose you are sorry it was not the truth. I ought to have died, but I was spared for you, don't you see? I haven't got time to waste telling you all about it; here I am, and what I want is--money."
"Of course," replied Halsa; "did you ever want anything else?"
"Not much, except to be even with you--and I have been even with you and your psalm-singing parson. I found out some time ago that you were here, and about to change your weeds, and I gave myself the pleasure of attending your wedding as an uninvited guest."
"Oh, God, have you no mercy?" moaned his victim.
"You'd better ask God to give you the dollars--you'll want them badly, if I mistake not," said Lamport as he seated himself in a chair.
"How much do you want?" asked Halsa in a faint voice. What she desired was to gain a little time. All this had happened with such awful suddenness. If she could persuade this man to go away with all she had, even for a day, she could decide on some course of action. At present, beyond the one idea of getting rid of Lamport, nothing else crossed her mind.
"Oh, a thousand will see me!" said Lamport. "I suppose you can give me a hundred now--take it out of the poor-box--and the rest I must have in three days, or I blow the whole gaff. I will tell you where to send it."
Halsa stood before him lacing and interlacing her fingers. While Lamport was speaking she was thinking: money--there was no use in giving this man money, even if she could lay her hands on the impossible sum he named. She had never deceived John; she would not do so now, come what may. She was a brave woman, and rose to her trouble.
"Stephen Lamport," she said slowly, "listen to me: you shall not have one penny from me--you can do your worst. God will help me."
Lamport looked at her in amazement. "You damned fool!" he said; "do you know what the consequences of this will be?"