Tusk's wavering call sounded before the broken gate, and the injured voice of Mrs. Hewlet answered. In a few minutes Tom emerged from the side of the house as before; but a moment after him crept another figure, stealing through the shadows in a detour and stopping behind the same bush which sheltered Brent. She was not seen by anyone but him, nor did she know that he was there. "Tom," the big fellow whined, "I jest seen 'im;--that--that man 'bout yoh hund'ed." Hewlet gave a sign of satisfaction, while Brent wanted to indulge a chuckle which seemed to arise from all parts of him. He was immeasurably pleased. He thought humorously of Frankenstein, and how he must have felt with the monster in his keeping. It was weird, fascinating, and altogether to his liking. "He's just beat the hell out of me down the road," Tusk whimpered; "an now him an' the Cunnel's goin' to town to git you 'rested." Tom's jaw dropped in utter surprise at both of these statements. "'Rested!" he cried. "What for?" "That askin' for money was blackmail--blackmail, Tom! Don't forgit the word. An' it's fifty year in the pen with fishhooks in yoh tongue." "Shet up!" Tom cried again. "What you mean? They're after me?" He failed to see that his informer was in a dripping perspiration and hardly able to stand from fright. He saw nothing beyond a dawning fear that he had gone too far. "You mean they're already started, or talkin' 'bout startin'?" he asked again. "Don't ask me no moh," Tusk wailed. "It ain't decent to speak of! An', oh, my Gawd, I'm a goner if you don't git this hammered inter you good an' strong. I'd better do it now!" Thereupon he made a grab for the luckless Hewlet, who eluded the iron hands in the nick of time and retreated toward the house. "Go home, Tusk," he warned. "You're drunk tonight. I'll be at yoh cabin in the mawnin'." And, with this parting promise, he went in. Tusk was even about to follow, having no intention of incurring the devil's displeasure; but Brent spoke softly from his hiding place and his satellite obediently returned. "You've done very well, this time," the pseudo Mephisto whispered. "Don't tackle him again till I say. Now go home." And to emphasize this he put his teeth over the end of the little torch and flashed it. Again Tusk sprang away with a snarl of fear, and Brent croaked in a sepulchral voice: "Nothing'll hurt you as long as you obey me, Mr. Faust. Now beat it!" The terrified man did this willingly enough and when he had been swallowed into the night Brent, stepping around the bush, confronted Nancy. "I didn't know you were heah when I came," she explained, with a shade of uneasiness in her voice and embarrassment in her eyes. "You heard everything, didn't you," he said regretfully. "I might have spared you this."