"She is mad!" muttered Godfrey, resuming his seat at the table. "Are you afraid, Bill, of the ravings of a maniac? Come, gather up courage and pass the bottle this way; and tell me how we are to divide the rest of the spoil."
"Let us throw the dice for it."
"Agreed. Who shall have the first chance?"
"We will throw for that. The lowest gains. I have it," cried Mathews, clutching the box.
"Stop!" said Mary. "Fair play's a jewel. There are three of you at the table. Will you not let the old man have one chance to win back his gold?"
"The Devil!" cried Mathews, dropping the box, and staggering to his seat, a universal tremor perceptible in his huge limbs. "Where—where is he?"
"At your elbow," said Mary. "Don't you see him frown and shake his head at you? How fast the blood pours down from the wound in his head! It is staining all your clothes. Get up, William, and give the poor old man the chair."
"Don't mind her, Mathews, she is raving," said Godfrey. "Do you see anything?"
"I thought I saw a long, bony, mutilated hand, flitting to and fro, over the gold. Ah! there it is again," said Mathews, starting from his chair. "You may keep the money, for may I be hanged if I will touch it. Leave this accursed place and yon croaking fiend. Let us join the boys down stairs, and drink and sing, and drive away care."
And so the murderers departed, leaving the poor girl alone with the gold, but they took good care to lock the door after them. When they were gone, Mary threw an old cloak about her, which formed part of the covering to the bed, and stepped upon the floor.