“Bare, quite bare!” John Audley muttered, his mind still far away. “But if they took out—if they took out——”
Toft waved his hand again—waved it wildly.
“All right, I understand,” Lord Audley said. He had not at first grasped what was wanted, but the man’s repeated gestures enlightened him. He retired to a position where he was out of the sick man’s sight.
The servant wiped the sweat from his brow. “He mustn’t see him!” he repeated insistently. “Lord! what a turn it gave me. I ask your pardon, Miss,” he continued, “but I know the master so well.” He cast an uneasy glance over his shoulder. “If the master’s eyes lit on him once, only once, when he’s in this state, I’d not answer for his life.”
Mary reproached herself. “You are quite right, Toft,” she said. “I ought to have thought of that myself.”
“He must not see any strangers!”
“He shall not. You are quite right.”
But Toft was still uneasy. He looked round. Stubbs and a man who had been working in the neighborhood were bringing up a sheep-hurdle, and again the butler’s anxiety overcame him. “D—n!” he said: and he rose to his feet. “I think they want to kill him amongst them! Why can’t they keep away?”
“Hush! Toft. Why——”
“He mustn’t see the lawyer! He must not see him on any account.”