“Mrs. Davies, be quiet and let me speak?”

“Of course I will, sir,” said the woman with a ludicrously sudden calm and coaxing tone.

There was a silence; Mr. Eden eyed the men.  Small guilt peeped from them by its usual little signs.

Mr. Eden’s lip curled magnificently.

“So you did not come to see me—­you were sent by that man. (Mrs. Davies, be quiet; curiosity is not a crime, like torturing the defenseless.) Mr. Hawes sent you that you might tell him how soon his victims are like to lose their only earthly defender.”

The men colored and stammered; Mrs. Davies covered her face with her apron and rocked herself on her chair.

Mr. Eden flowed gently on.

“Tell your master that I have settled all my worldly affairs, and caused all my trifling debts to be paid.

“Tell him that I have made my will! (I have provided in it for the turnkey Evans—­he will know why.)

“Tell him you found my cheeks fallen away, my eye hollow, and my face squalid.

“Tell him my Bible was by my side, and even the prison was mingling with other memories as I drifted from earth and all its thorns and tears.  All was blunted but the Christian’s faith and trust in his Redeemer.

“Tell him that there is a cold dew upon my forehead.

“Tell him that you found me by the side of the river Jordan, looking across the cold river to the heavenly land, where they who have been washed in the blood of the Lamb walk in white garments, and seem, even as I gaze, to welcome and beckon me to join them.

“And then tell him,” cried he, in a new voice like a flash of lightning, “that he has brought me back to earth.  You have come and reminded me that if I die a wolf is waiting to tear my sheep.  I thank you, and I tell you,” roared he, “as the Lord liveth and as my soul liveth, I will not die but live—­and do the Lord’s work—­and put my foot yet on that caitiff’s neck who sent you to inspect my decaying body, you poor tools—­THE DOOR!”

He was up in the bed by magic, towering above them all, and he pointed to the door with a tremendous gesture and an eye that flamed.  Mrs. Davies caught the electric spark, in a moment she tore the door open, and the pair bundled down the stairs before that terrible eye and finger.

“Susan—­Susan!” Susan heard his elevated voice, and came running in in great anxiety.

“They say there is no such thing as friendship between a man and a woman.  Prove to me this is a falsehood!”

“It is, sir.”

“Do me a service.”

“Ah!—­what is it?”

“Go a journey for me.”

“I will go all round England for you, Mr. Eden,” cried the girl, panting and flushing.

“My writing-desk!—­it is to a village sixty miles from this, but you will be there in four hours; in that village lives the man who can cure me, if any one can.”

“What will you take with you?” asked Mrs. Davies, all in a bustle.