oney of Mrs.
Prichard...."

"How the devil did he know that?"

"He said it. And I told him the old lady had no money. It's little
enough, if she has."

"And that was all?"

"All about Mrs. Prichard."

"Anything else?"

"He told me your name."

"What name?"

"Thornton Daverill." The moment Aunt M'riar had said this she was sorry
for it. For she remembered, plainly enough considering the tension of
her mind, that Micky had only given her the surname. Her oversight had
come of her own bitter familiarity with the name. Think how easy for her
tongue to trip!

"Anything else?"

"No--nothing else."

"You swear to Goard?"

"I have told you everything."

"Then look you here, mistress! I can tell you this one thing. That young
boy never told you Thornton. I've never named the name to a soul since I
set foot in England. How the devil come you to know it?"

Aunt M'riar was silent. She had given herself away, and had no one but
herself to thank for it.

"How the devil come you to know it?" The man raised his voice harshly to
repeat the question, adding, more to himself:--"You're some * * * jade
that knows me. Who the devil _are_ you?"

The woman remained dumb, but on the very edge of desperation.

"Open this damned door! You hear me? Open this door--or, look you, I
tell you what I'll do! Here's that * * * young boy coming. I'll twist
his neck for him, by Goard, and leave him on your doorstep. You put me
to it, and I'll do it. I'm good for my word." A change of tone, from
savage anger to sullen intent, conveyed the strength of a controlled
resolve, that might mean more than threat. At whatever cost, Aunt M'riar
could not but shield Micky. It was in her service that he had provoked
this man's wrath.

She wavered a little, closed the door, and slipped the chain-hook up to
its limit. Even then she hesitated to withdraw it from its socket. The
man outside made with his tongue the click of acceleration with which
one urges a horse, saying, "Look alive!" She could see no choice but to
throw the door open and face him. The moment that passed before she
could muster the resolution needed seemed a long one.

That she was helped to it by an agonising thirst, almost, of curiosity
to see his face once more, there can be no doubt. But could she have
said, during that moment, whether she most desired that he should have
utterly forgotten her, or that he should remember her and claim her as
his wife? Probably she would n