'I say! He's taking his time!' he remonstrated.
'I allowed him five minutes,' said Slyme. 'Time's more than up, though.
I'll bring him down.'
He withdrew from the window accordingly, and walked on tiptoe to the
door in the partition. He listened. There was not a sound within. He set
the candles near it, that they might shine through the glass.
It was not easy, he found, to make up his mind to the opening of
the door. But he flung it wide open suddenly, and with a noise; then
retreated. After peeping in and listening again, he entered.
He started back as his eyes met those of Jonas, standing in an angle of
the wall, and staring at him. His neckerchief was off; his face was ashy
pale.
'You're too soon,' said Jonas, with an abject whimper. 'I've not had
time. I have not been able to do it. I--five minutes more--two minutes
more!--only one!'
Slyme gave him no reply, but thrusting the purse upon him and forcing it
back into his pocket, called up his men.
He whined, and cried, and cursed, and entreated them, and struggled, and
submitted, in the same breath, and had no power to stand.
Pages:
1464
1465
1466
1467
1468
1469
1470
1471
1472
1473
1474
1475
1476
1477
1478
1479
1480
1481
1482
1483
1484
1485
1486
1487
1488