The jailer had already locked the door and left us.
"Listen, Thomas," he answered. "I have come to save thee, if thou wilt but listen to me a moment."
"Dost thou expect me to believe that?" I said. "Out with thee! Wouldst thou come in to annoy a dying man, and to distract his thoughts from his devotions? This is my last day—wouldst thou spoil it for me?"
"I would save thee," he replied, "if thou wilt but listen to me."
"Be quick then," I answered, "my time is short." And I seated myself opposite him, and leaning my elbow on the table, waited to hear what he would say.
"Our father is dead," he said, clearing his throat and speaking in a low voice.
"Is that so? Well, thou couldst not expect me to shed many tears over him, the way he has treated me. Thy news, while interesting, is not of sufficient moment to disturb me at this late hour."
"Wait a moment!" he cried. "He left me the estates and title, but thou art my brother, I cannot forget that, and I would deal generously by thee. Though thou hast no legal claim to the estate, if thou wilt but sign this paper, renouncing all right which thou mayst have to the estate, and also another trifling matter here, thou shalt have the Devonshire lands with the house, and I will see that thou dost go free," and his watery eyes glistened as he looked at me.
"Thou art promising too much," I replied. "Art promising what thou canst not perform, and——"
"Not so," he broke in eagerly. "I swear to thee that if I but say the word thou shalt go scot free."