"It is not the end of it!" I cried fiercely, as she turned away from me. "I will save you in spite of yourself; I will make you understand your danger, even if you do not see it now. I shall ask no thanks and seek no reward. I shall have done it for another reason." I turned to the doctor, and pointed a finger at him. "As for you, sir, such a retribution is preparing for you as shall not be long delayed. You think you have seen the last of me—you have not done that by any means. Don't forget that I am a desperate man, with nothing to lose in this world save my liberty; and I shall not count that, if it becomes necessary for me to declare who I am, and to come forward into the light of day to protect this girl. That's my last word on the matter."
"I'm glad to hear it!" retorted the doctor. "Open the door, Harvey, please."
Mr. Harvey Scoffold obeyed with alacrity, and, thus dismissed, I went out of the house, and made my way towards the village. I was sent upon my way more quickly, perhaps, from hearing a peal of laughter from the room I had left. I went away with rage and bitterness in my heart.
I went back to my lodging at the little inn, more perplexed than ever as to what I should do. I knew that this was a new danger which threatened the girl, because she would prove an easier victim in any new scheme which might be maturing, by reason of her belief in the man who meant to kill her; her trust in him would make her utterly unsuspicious. The thought of that drove me almost frantic, and I raged up and down my little room in the inn, tormented by doubts and fears, and seeing my own helplessness loom more largely before me with every moment. Late in the afternoon I went out into the village of Comerford, undecided whether to go back to London, or whether to remain in that place. I wandered aimlessly about the streets, and finally seated myself on a gate a little way out, and propped my chin in my hands and gave myself up to the gloomiest thoughts.
I became aware, in a curious, detached fashion, of a small country boy, with a very freckled face and very light hair, who had walked past me twice, and had observed me narrowly; now I came to think of it, I had seen him loitering along on the other side of the street some half-hour previously. I looked at him with a frown now, and asked him what he wanted.
To my surprise he asked me if I was Mr. John New. I sat up and looked at him, and said that I was. From one of his pockets the boy drew out a twisted piece of paper, flattened it with one grubby hand upon the other, and spelled out the name. Then to my amazement, he handed the note to me.
"Where did you get this from?" I demanded.
He told me that a lady had given it to him, and had given him also a shilling to find me. She had told him what I was like, and that I was a stranger in the village; my aimlessly wandering about the streets had done the rest, and had shown me to him. I added another shilling to the boy's new wealth on the spot, and he went away happy. Then I untwisted the note, and read what was written on it.
"I want to see you, and I must see you to-day. There is a place at the other side of the wood where you lay this morning—an old chalk-pit, half filled with water. At one side of that is a little ruined hut. I shall be there this evening at a little after six. I beg, that you will not fail me.
"DEBORA."
So much had I been tricked, and so little faith had I in man or woman then, that for a moment I believed that this was another trap set, into which my feet should stumble. But the next moment, I told myself that surely this village boy would not have lied to me over the matter. A woman had sent the note, and it could be but one woman. I thrust the precious paper into my pocket, and set off then and there, with my heart singing within me, to the place appointed.