He got back to his chair again, and sat there, breathing hard, with his lips opening and shutting; I saw that he had had a bad fright. I do not think, after all, that even in my rage I could have killed him, badly as he had served me; but I was relieved now to see that I had effected my purpose. I did not think he would be likely to trouble me again with any threats of exposure; for the first time in his life he appeared to have a very wholesome dread of me. Indeed, now he began, as soon as he had got his breath, to seek in some measure to propitiate me.
"I was excited—annoyed," he said. "Of course, my dear boy, I should never have done anything against you—not really, you know. But it was a great shock to me, when that woman came and told me that you were alive and in the neighbourhood—that was a horrible shock. Not but what, Norton, I was glad, in a way—glad to know that you were alive again."
"We'll take that for granted," I said with a laugh. "We have no reason to love each other, you and I, Uncle Zabdiel; and all I ask is that you shall forget that you ever saw me after I disappeared into my prison. To you, and to anyone else in the world who may be interested in the information, I am John New."
"Is that the name you have given yourself?" he asked sharply.
"The name that has been given to me by a certain friend I have found," I replied. "I spoke just now of a second matter about which I wanted to talk to you—a matter of serious moment to myself, and one in which you can do a kindly action."
He looked at me in the old suspicious manner; yet I saw that in his fear of me he was anxious to please me. "What is it?" he demanded. "And why should I do it? I don't believe in kindly actions."
I seated myself on the table beside him, and laid the heavy stick behind me. "Uncle Zabdiel," I began, leaning down so as to look into his eyes, "you're an old man, and, in the ordinary course of things, you can't have very long to live."
"What the devil are you talking about?" he exclaimed angrily. "There's nothing the matter with me; I'm younger and stronger, in my feelings at least, than I ever was. I'm hale and hearty."
"You're a weak and defenceless old man, living all alone, with no one in the world to care for you—with no one to trouble much whether you live or whether you die," I went on persistently. "God knows you might have made something of me, if you'd ever set about it in any other fashion than that you chose to adopt; but you killed Norton Hyde, and he's done with and forgotten. And you're going on in the same hard, grinding fashion for the rest of your days, until some day, if nothing happens to you——"
He looked at me with gaping mouth. "What should happen to me?" he asked in a whisper.