His cap was lost, and his thin hair tangled
over his forehead, his coat was torn off, so that he stood in his
waistcoat alone; he was pale, and gasped terribly, whether from the sharp
run, or from violence, or fear, or all combined.
There was a babel of voices when they came up of desperate men who had a
bitterest enemy in their clutch; and some shouted, 'Club him', 'Shoot
him', 'Hang him', while others were for throwing him over the cliff. Then
someone saw under the flap of his waistcoat that same silver-hafted
pistol that lay so lately next the lease of the Why Not? and snatching it
from him, flung it on the grass at Block's feet.
But Elzevir's deep voice mastered their contentions--
'Lads, ye remember how I said when this man's reckoning day should come
'twas I would reckon with him, and had your promise to it. Nor is it
right that any should lay hand on him but I, for is he not sealed to me
with my son's blood? So touch him not, but bind him hand and foot, and
leave him here with me and go your ways; there is no time to lose, for
the light grows apace.'
There was a little muttered murmuring, but Elzevir's will overbore them
here as it had done in the vault; and they yielded the more easily,
because every man knew in his heart that he would never see Maskew again
alive. So within ten minutes all were winding up the bridle-path, horses
and men, all except three; for there were left upon the brambly
greensward of the under-cliff Maskew and Elzevir and I, and the pistol
lay at Elzevir's feet.
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