“Have you moved Jacob Gray?” he said, in a calm voice. “Nay,” replied Gray, “why need you ask?” “A message from the Old Smithy,” announced a servant at this juncture. “’Tis Britton,” whispered Learmont to Gray. “What, cunning Master Britton!” answered Gray. “Ho! Ho! I shall be glad to see him.” “Admit him,” said Learmont to the servant; then turning to Gray, he added,— “Will you leave me, now?” “No,” said Gray. “Wherefore?” “Because I do not want the smith again upon my track, like a blood hound!” “Oh, Jacob Gray,” said Learmont, “if you could destroy Britton, securing at the same time the dangerous papers he has—bring me the boy—commit your own confession to the flames, and share my fortune!” “Humph!“ said Gray. “If I could.” “You might.” “Well, that’ll do,” roared Britton, as the servant held the door open for him to enter the room. “Oh—oh—you here?” “Yes, cunning Britton,” said Gray, “I am here.” “Curse you, then!” said Britton, flinging himself into a chair. “Bless you!” said Gray. “Ho, ho! Clever Britton.” “Perhaps, gentlemen,” sneered Learmont, “you will condescend to carry your quarrels to some pot-house, when you have said what you wish to say to me?” “Yes,” said Gray, “we shall anger his worship.” “Damnation take—” “Hold, Britton,” cried Learmont. “You come here for money. Name the sum, and go.” “Oh, name the sum!” said Britton. “What’s to-day?” “Friday, my dear Britton,” said Gray. “It’s generally considered an unlucky day, I pray you to take care of yourself, cunning Britton.” Britton cast a savage scowl upon Gray, as he said,— “I shall, and mind you be as careful. Friday, is it? Twenty pounds will last me till next Monday, squire.” “Will they, indeed?” sneered Learmont. “Here they are, then. May I now be indulged with the privacy of my own house?” “There now,” said Gray, “you hear his worship; why don’t you go, Britton?” “Because I intend staying out, Jacob Gray,” cried Britton, fiercely. “Well,” said Gray, rising, “be it so, but hearken to me, Squire Learmont. If I find this ruffian upon my track, I will be revenged with safety to myself—bitterly revenged—now beware!” So saying, Jacob Gray left the room, with an expression of countenance perfectly demoniac. Britton made a movement to follow him, but the squire laid his hand upon his arm, and said,— “No—not now, Britton. We must devise some better means yet of destroying, with perfect safety, this Jacob Gray.” “Curses on him!” growled Britton. “Did you hear how he taunted me?” “I did.” “Then, I say I must have his blood.” “You shall.” “I will—I have sworn it—I will take the hateful life of Jacob Gray.” “Britton, we understand each other. This Gray is as great an enemy to you as he is to me.” “I know he is,” growled Britton. “You need not tell me that. And who, think you, is in London, and raving through the streets to every one she meets, about the Old Smithy, and a murder?” “She? Who mean you?”