"Why I'd have broken his back, cousin," said Tom, "unless my right hand had forgot her cunning. He is a fine man of his weight: but, Lord, in a struggle for life and death, I could break his neck, and have one more claim on Heaven for doing so; for he is the most damnable villain that ever disgraced God's earth, and that is the truth. That man, cousin, in one of his devil's raids, tore a baby from its mother's breast by the leg, dashed its brains out against a tree, and then--I daren't tell a woman what happened." [Note: Tom was confusing Touan with Michael Howe. The latter actually did commit this frightful atrocity; but I never heard that the former actually combined the two crimes in this way.] "Tom! Tom!" said Mary, "how can you talk of such things?" "To show you what we have to expect if he comes this way, cousin; that is all." "And is there any possibility of such a thing?" asked Mary. "Why not? Why should he not pay us the compliment of looking round this way?" "Why do they call him Touan, Tom?" asked Charles. "Can't, you see," said Tom, "the Touan, the little grey flying squirrel, only begins to fly about at night, and slides down from his bough sudden and sharp. This fellow has made some of his most terrible raids at night, and so he got the name of Touan." "God deliver us from such monsters!" said Mary, and left the room. She went into the kitchen. Lee sat there smoking. When she came in he rose, and, knocking the ashes out of his pipe, touched his forehead and stood looking at her. "Now then, old friend," she said, "come here." He followed her out. She led the way swiftly, through the silent night, across the yard, over a small paddock, up to the sheep-yard beside the woolshed. There she turned shortly round, and, leaning on the fence, said abruptly-- "No one can hear us here, William Lee. Now, what have you to say?" He seemed to hesitate a moment, and then began: "Mrs. Hawker, have I been a good servant to you?" "Honest, faithful, kindly, active; who could have been a better servant than you, William Lee! A friend, and not a servant; God is my witness; now then?" "I am glad to hear you say so," he answered. "I did you a terrible injury once; I have often been sorry for it since I knew you, but it cannot be mended now." "Since you knew me?" she said. "Why, you have known me ever since I have been in the country, and you have never injured me since then, surely." "Ay, but at home," he said. "In England. In Devonshire." "My God!" "I was your husband's companion in all his earlier villanies. I suggested them to him, and egged him on. And now, mind you, after twenty years, my punishment is coming." She could only say still, "My God!" while her throat was as dry as a kiln. "Listen to what I have got to tell you now. Hear it all in order, and try to bear up, and use your common sense and courage. As I said before, you have good friends around you, and you at least are innocent."