“Woman,” cried I, for it was an old gypsy, who had somehow transported herself to the spot, “for God’s sake go for help!  There is a house yonder amongst the trees.”

“And why should I stir a foot,” replied she fiercely, “for the child of a race that has ever treated me and mine as dogs?”

Then she cursed Sir Massingberd as the oppressor of her kith and kin, concluding with the terrible words, “May he perish, inch by inch, within reach of the aid that shall never come, ere the God of the poor take him into His hand!”

“If you hate Sir Massingberd Heath,” said I despairingly, “and want to do him the worst service that lies in your power, flee, flee to that house, and bid them save this boy’s life, which alone stands between his beggared uncle and unknown riches!”

Revenge accomplished what pity had failed to work.  She knelt at his side, from a pocket produced a spirit-flask in a leathern case, and applied it to his lips.  After a painful attempt to swallow, he succeeded; his eyelids began tremulously to move, and the colour to return to his pallid cheeks.  She disappeared; during her absence I noted that the tarnished silver top of the flask bore upon it a facsimile of one of the identical griffins which guarded each side of the broad steps that led to Fairburn Hall.

After a short interval, a young and lovely girl appeared, accompanied by a groom and butler, who bore between them a small sofa, on which Marmaduke was lifted and gently carried to the house.  The master came in soon, accompanied by the local doctor, who at last delivered the verdict that my friend “would live to be a baronet.”

He said, moreover, that the youth must be kept perfectly quiet, and not moved thence on any consideration—­it might be for weeks.  Harvey Gerard, a noble-looking gentleman, refused to admit Sir Massingberd under his roof.

The baronet, however, did appear towards twilight, and forced his way into the house, where Harvey Gerard met him with great severity.  Soon hatred took the place of all other expressions on the baronet’s face, and he swore that he would see his nephew.

“That you shall not do, Sir Massingberd,” said the gentleman.  “If you attempt to do so, my servants will put you out of the house by force.”

“Before night, then, I shall send for him, and he shall be carried back to Fairburn, to be nursed in his proper home.”

“Nursed!” repeated Harvey Gerard hoarsely.  “Nursed by the gravedigger!”

Sir Massingberd turned livid.

“To hear you talk one would think that I had tried to murder the boy,” he said.

“I know you did!” cried Harvey Gerard solemnly.  “To-day you sent your nephew forth upon that devil with a snaffle-bridle instead of a curb!  See, I track your thoughts like slime.  Base ruffian, begone from beneath this roof, false coward!”

Sir Massingberd started up like one stung by an adder.