So saying, without waiting for an answer, he strode from the smithy with his face distorted by passion, leaving the two confederates, who had not expected such a burst of fury, abashed, even in spite of their deep villanies and abounding craft.
“Gray!” said the smith, after a few moments’ silence.
Jacob Gray started and cried, “What shall we do now? Squire Learmont is a man of wild passion.”
“What is his wild passion to us?” said Britton; “we have the means of stripping him of his wealth, and leading him to a scaffold.”
“But you forget, Master Britton, that upon that same scaffold you and I would be accommodated with prominent situations.”
“Pshaw!” cried the smith. “That is a thought that does not haunt me. We are as adventurous miners, Gray, who have suddenly hit upon a vein of wealth, which it requires but ordinary skill to work to our mutual profit.”
“True,” said Gray, “and we will work it, always my friend, Britton, remembering that we are so situated that we stand or fall together.”
“Agreed,” cried the smith. “If I fall I care not who stands; only thus much I will take pains to do—drag all I can within the sphere of my own ruin.”
“You are very considerate,” said Gray. “And now you must recollect that my absence from London must be limited. There is danger in a longer stay.”
“What! leave Learmont with nothing but sounding promises, and an empty purse? No, Britton. I must again see Squire Learmont, before I take my leave of this place, which I hate.”
“True,” said the smith. “And before you go, there is another small matter in which I claim your assistance.”
“Beyond that ancient door is a sight which must be placed beyond human recognition.”
Gray turned ghastly pale, as he said, “Britton, your nerves are strong. You will feel little in—in—disposing securely of whatever is there that would blast the gaze of another.”
“Jacob Gray,” said Britton in a determined tone, “you share the advantages. You have by your cunning so hedged yourself in with precautions, that I, even I, feel how impolitic it would be to scatter your brains with yon forge-hammer.”
Gray started to his feet, as he exclaimed:
“I did!” roared the smith. “And now, Jacob Gray, we understand each other, and you know you are safe with me. But I will have no flinching, there is a work to be performed which you shall aid in, although you shrink from it as you would from the mouth of hell. If it turn your blood to liquid flame you shall do it. If your reason fail you at the ghastly sight, for ghastly it is, you shall do it; nay, should you die in gasping terror, and involve me and Learmont in one common destruction by the wily narrative you have left in London, you shall do it.”