"Be silent," said Jonathan, in a menacing whisper.
"What have you seen?" inquired Lady Trafford.
"My enemy," replied her son.
"Your enemy!" she returned imperfectly comprehending him. "Sir Rowland is your uncle—he will be your guardian—he will protect you. Will you not, brother?"
"Promise," said a deep voice in Trenchard's ear.
"He will kill me," cried Thames. "There is a man in this room who seeks my life."
"Impossible!" rejoined his mother.
"Look at these fetters," returned Thames, holding up his manacled wrists; "they were put on by my uncle's command."
"Ah!" shrieked Lady Trafford.
"Not a moment is to be lost," whispered Jonathan to Trenchard. "His life—or yours?"