“I don’t--I don’t! But you’re generous--Renalt, I always thought you good and generous, when I laughed at you most. Save me from that terror! He strikes at me in the dark--I never know where his hideous face will show next. He follows me--haunts me--tries to poison me, to torture me to death! Oh, Renny, help me!” “Answer me truly first. For how long were you robbing the old man?” “I may have had small sums of him for a year--nothing much. When Zyp and I made up our minds to go, I bid for a larger, and he gave it me.” “He didn’t know you were married?” “He wouldn’t hear of it--it’s the truth. He meant her for you, I think, and the worst threats I could use never shook him from his refusal to countenance us.” “Brave old man!” “Renny--help me!” “For Zyp’s sake,” I said, sternly--“yes. Were it not for her appeal, I tell you plainly you might perish for me.” He looked so base kneeling there in his craven degradation that I could not forbear the stroke. “My father provides the means,” I said. “I went to London to-day to realize it. Here it is, and make the most of it.” He took it from me with trembling hands. “Ten pounds,” he said, blankly. “No more?” “Isn’t it enough?” “Enough to get away with, not enough to find a living on across the water.” “It’s all you’ll get--that’s final. Remember now that I stand here by my father. Always remember that when your fingers itch for hush money--and remember who it was that was once my friend.” He rose and crept to the door with bowed head. Some old vein of tenderer feeling gushed warm in me. “Jason,” I cried, “I forgive you for all you have done to me.” He turned and came back to me, seized me by the wrist--and his eyes were moist with tears. “For pity’s sake come a little way with me, Renny. You don’t know what I suffer.” “A little way on your road, do you mean?” “Yes. I daren’t go by train. He might be there. I must walk; and I dread--Renny, supposing I should meet him on the way?” “Why, that’s nonsense. Haven’t you just come alone?” “I was driven by the thought of what I was seeking, then. It was bad enough. But, now I’ve got it, all nerve seems shaken out of me. I’m afraid of the dark.” Was this the stuff that villains are made of? Almost I could find it in me to soothe and comfort the poor, terrified creature. “Very well,” I said. “I will walk part of the way with you.” His wan cheek flushed with gratitude. I got my hat and stick, and ran up to my father to tell him whither I was off. As I came downstairs again Jason was disappearing into the loft, where the stones were, that stood opposite the sitting-room. The wheel underneath was booming as usual and the great disks revolved softly with a rubbing noise. I saw him go to the dim window, that stood out as if hung up in the black atmosphere of the room, a square of latticed gray. It was evidently his intention to reconnoiter before starting, for the window looked upon the bridge and the now lonely tail of the High street.