back
bearing a big jug full of water.

Mr. Lambert watched him in a bursting fury, at whiles scanning the
empty hills with a raging eye. Suddenly light dawned on him: "Are you
the boy who stole the flying-machine?" he cried.

"You mind your own business!" said Tinker tartly; it was his cherished
belief that he had borrowed the flying-machine.

Mr. Lambert understood at last with whom he had to deal; and the
knowledge was not cheering. His angry stomach clamoured at him to come
to terms, but his greed was still too strong for it.

"The time is up, Lambert of London!" said Tinker presently, very
sternly. "Will you ransom your base carcase?"

The money-lender turned his back on him with a lofty dignity.

"Ha! ha! Hunger shall tame that proud spirit!" said the Baron of
Ardrochan.

Suddenly the money-lender heard the door opened, and he dashed for the
ladder. He scrambled down it in time to hear the key turn again, but
the jug of water stood inside. He took it up and drank a deep draught.
He had not known that he was so thirsty, never dreamed that water could
be so appetising. He heard Tinker summon his men, and when he came
back to the top of the tower, he was riding away. He watched him go
with a sinking heart, and, since he was so empty, it had a good depth
to sink to. Twice he opened his mouth to call him back, but greed
prevailed.

The day wore wearily through. His spoilt stomach was now raving at him
in a savage frenzy. Now and again he shouted, but less often as the
afternoon drew on, for he knew surely that it was hopeless.

As the dusk fell, he found himself remembering Tinker's words about the
headless woman and the redheaded man, and began to curse his folly in
not having come to terms. At times his hunger was a veritable anguish.
This night was a thousand times worse than the night before. His
hunger gave him little rest, and he awoke from his brief sleep in fits
of abject terror, fancying that the redheaded man was staring in
through the window; he saw his gashed throat quite plainly. He grew
colder and colder, for he was too faint with hunger to stamp about the
top of the tower. Later he must have grown delirious, for he saw the
headless woman climbing up the ladder to the second story. It must
have been delirium, for the figure he saw wore an ordinary nightrail,
whereas the lady of the legend wore a russet gown. Some years later,
as it seemed to him, the dawn came. It grew warmer;