Before any one could speak, and while the energy of the lad still held them dumb, a figure darted in at the open doorway, and caught him in its arms, and fell at his feet. It was Clara Siggs. “Harry,” she cried, hiding her face against his leg, and still clutching him desperately—“for the love of God, be silent! For the love of all the good angels—don’t betray him!” A sort of fierce struggle seemed to go on, for a moment, in the lad’s breast; finally, looking down at her, he stooped, and caught her half roughly by the arm, and released himself—stepping back a little, so that she trailed over the floor after him. “Harry! Harry!” was all she said, with a sort of sob in her voice. “Is there a man here who wants the murderer of Patience Miller?” he cried again. “I’ve seen him, not a moment since; I know which way he’s gone. I found him talking with this—this girl. I’ll lead any man to him; I’ll track him down anywhere. Who wants him?” “I’m your man,” cried Tokely, advancing to him, sobered by the scene he had witnessed. “Who’s the man?” “Harry! Harry!” wailed the girl again, without rising, or looking up. The lad seemed to choke down something in his throat, before he spoke. “Dandy Chater,” he said, after a moment’s pause. “That’s my man,” cried Tokely, bringing his fist down heavily on the table. “And for a thousand pounds I’ll have Dandy Chater to-night, before I sleep! Come on!” Catching Harry by the arm, and snatching up his own hat, he hurried with him out of the still open door, and vanished in the darkness. CHAPTER XIV BETTY SIGGS DREAMS A DREAM The girl rose slowly from the ground, after the two men had disappeared, and, still sobbing heavily, made her way towards the door which led to the upper part of the house. But her mother, brought to herself by the movement, advanced rapidly, and caught her in her arms. “Child,” she said, in a sort of gasp—“this ain’t no time for callin’ folks names, or talkin’ about rights and wrongs. Quick—what’s i’ the wind? I see Master Dandy a lookin’ in at that winder—straight at me; what’s i’ the wind, child—and w’ere have they gone?” For some moments, Clara Siggs could not speak; her sobs seemed to shake her from head to foot. But, after a little time, she grew more calm, and told what she knew. “I saw him—looking in at the window; he beckoned to me. Then, when I slipped out to him, I was frightened at first, because he seemed so worn-looking, and so strange. But he kept saying, again and again, that he wanted to see you—that he could not go away, without seeing you. And, in spite of all they have said, I could not believe, somehow, when I looked into his eyes, that he could have done such a cruel and wicked deed as that.” Here her sobs broke out afresh, so that Betty had much ado to comfort her. “There, there—don’t cry, child,” she said. “Crying never mended any think yet. Wot else did ’e say?”