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would make an attempt upon her life。 A watch was set upon her
night and day； and from that time she never spoke again—’
Sir John stretched out his hand towards his cup。 The locksmith
going on； arrested it half…way。
—‘Until she had but a minute to live。 Then she broke silence；
and said； in a low firm voice which no one heard but this
executioner； for all other living creatures had retired and left her
to her fate； “If I had a dagger within these fingers and he was
within my reach； I would strike him dead before me； even now！”
The man asked “Who？” She said； “The father of her boy。”’
Sir John drew back his outstretched hand； and seeing that the
locksmith paused； signed to him with easy politeness and without
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any new appearance of emotion； to proceed。
‘It was the first word she had ever spoken； from which it could
be understood that she had any relative on earth。 “Was the child
alive？” he asked。 “Yes。” He asked her where it was； its name； and
whether she had any wish respecting it。 She had but one； she said。
It was that the boy might live and grow； in utter ignorance of his
father； so that no arts might teach him to be gentle and forgiving。
When he became a man； she trusted to the God of their tribe to
bring the father and the son together； and revenge her through
her child。 He asked her other questions； but she spoke no more。
Indeed； he says； she scarcely said this much； to him； but stood with
her face turned upwards to the sky； and never looked towards him
once。’
Sir John took a pinch of snuff； glanced approvingly at an
elegant little sketch； entitled ‘Nature；’ on the wall； and raising his
eyes to the locksmith’s face again； said； with an air of courtesy and
patronage； ‘You were observing； Mr Varden—’
‘That she never；’ returned the locksmith； who was not to be
diverted by any artifice from his firm manner； and his steady gaze；
‘that she never looked towards him once； Sir John； and so she
died； and he forgot her。 But； some years afterwards； a man was
sentenced to die the same death； who was a gipsy too； a sunburnt；
swarthy fellow； almost a wild man； and while he lay in prison；
under sentence； he； who had seen the hangman more than once
while he was free； cut an image of him on his stick； by way of
braving death； and showing those who attended on him； how little
he cared or thought about it。 He gave this stick into his hands at
Tyburn； and told him then； that the woman I have spoken of had
left her own people to join a fine gentleman； and that； being
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deserted by him； and cast off by her old friends； she had sworn
within her own proud breast； that whatever her misery might be；
she would ask no help of any human being。 He told him that she
had kept her word to the last； and that； meeting even him in the
streets—he had been fond of her once； it seems—she had slipped
from him by a trick； and he never saw her again； until； being in
one of the frequent crowds at Tyburn； with some of his rough
companions； he had been driven almost mad by seeing； in the
criminal under another name； whose death he had come to
witness； herself。 Standing in the same place in which she had
stood； he told the hangman this； and told him； too； her real name；
which only her own people and the gentleman for whose sake she
had left them； knew。 That name he will tell again； Sir John； to
none but you。’
‘To none but me！’ exclaimed the knight； pausing in the act of
raising his cup to his lips with a perfectly steady hand； and curling
up his little finger for the better display of a brilliant ring with
which it was ornamented： ‘but me！—My dear Mr Varden； how
very preposterous； to select me for his confidence！ With you at his
elbow； too； who are so perfectly trustworthy！’
‘Sir John； Sir John；’ returned the locksmith； ‘at twelve
tomorrow； these men die。 Hear the few words I have to add； and
do not hope to deceive me； for though I am a plain man of humble
station； and you are a gentleman of rank and learning； the truth
raises me to your level； and I know that you anticipate the
disclosure with which I am about to end； and that you believe this
doomed man； Hugh； to be your son。’
‘Nay；’ said Sir John； bantering him with a gay air； ‘the wild
gentleman； who died so suddenly； scarcely went as far as that； I
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think？’
‘He did not；’ returned the locksmith； ‘for she had bound him by
some pledge； known only to these people； and which the worst
among them respect； not to tell your name： but； in a fantastic
pattern on the stick； he had carved some letters； and when the
hangman asked it； he bade him； especially if he should ever meet
with her son in after life； remember that place well。’
‘What place？’
‘Chester。’
The knight finished his cup of chocolate with an appearance of
infinite relish； and carefully wiped his lips upon his handkerchief。
‘Sir John；’ said the locksmith； ‘this is all that has been told to
me； but since these two men have been left for death； they have
conferred together closely。 See them； and hear what they can add。
See this Dennis； and learn from him what he has not trusted to
me。 If you； who hold the clue to all； want corroboration （which you
do not）； the means are easy。’
‘And to what；’ said Sir John Chester； rising on his elbow； after
smoothing the pillow for its reception； ‘my dear； good…natured；
estimable Mr Varden—with whom I cannot be angry if I would—to
what does all this tend？’