we did not know of seemed to stand far off; but now the place and the hour, the very reputation of the old chapel, all sent back in a flood the fearful imaginings which had assailed me since first I had known of the plot against Marjory. Instinctively my first act was to draw my wife close to me and hold her tight. Even in that moment it was a joy to me to feel that she let herself come willingly. For a few moments we stood silent, with our hearts beating together; then she whispered to me again:
"We must listen. We may perhaps find out who they are, and what they intend."
Accordingly we drew again close to the opening, Marjory standing under the aperture, and I beside it as I found I could hear better in this position. The stooping made the coursing of my own blood sound in my ears. The voice which we first heard was a strong one, for even when toned to a whisper it was resonant as well as harsh and raucous:
"Then it's settled we wait till we get word from Whiskey Tommy. How long is it likely to be?" The answering voice, also a whisper, was smooth and oily, but penetrating:
"Can't say. He has to square the Dutchy: and they take a lot of sugar, his kind. They're mighty pious when they're right end up; but Lordy! when they're down they're holy terrors. This one is a peach. But he's clever—I will say that; and he knows it. I'm almost sorry we took him in now, though he is so clever. He'd better mind out, though, for none of us love him; and if he goes back on us, or does not come up to the mark—" He stopped, and the sentence was finished by a click which I knew was the snapping of the spring of a bowie knife when it is thrown open.
"And quite right too. I'm on if need be!" and there was another click. The answering voice was strong and
