The man’s lips parted in a hideous smile which showed his white teeth, sharp and pointed like the fangs of a wolf.  Raymond felt his courage rise with the magnitude of his peril.  That some unspeakably terrible doom was designed for him he could not doubt.  The malignity and cruelty of his foe were too well understood; but at least if he must suffer, he would suffer in silence.  His enemy should not have the satisfaction of wringing from him one cry for mercy.  He would die a thousand times sooner than sue to him.  He thought of Joan —­ realizing that for her sake he should be called upon, in some sort, to bear this suffering; and even the bare thought sent a thrill of ecstasy through him.  Any death that was died for her would be sweet.  And might not his be instrumental in ridding her for ever of her hateful foe?  Would not Gaston raise heaven and earth to discover his brother?  Surely he would, sooner or later, find out what had befallen him; and then might Peter Sanghurst strive in vain to flee from the vengeance he had courted:  he would assuredly fall by Gaston’s hand, tracked down even to the ends of the earth.

Peter Sanghurst, his eyes fixed steadily on the face of his victim, hoping to enjoy by anticipation his agonies of terror, saw only a gleam of resolution and even of joy pass across his face, and he gnashed his teeth in sudden rage at finding himself unable to dominate the spirit of the youth, as he meant shortly to rack his body.

“Thou thinkest still to defy me, mad boy?” he asked.  “Thou thinkest that thy brother will come to thine aid?  Let him try to trace thee if he can!  I defy him ever to learn where thou art.  Wouldst know it thyself?  Then thou shalt do so, and thou wilt see thy case lost indeed.  Thou art in that Castle of Saut that thou wouldest fain call thine own —­ that castle which has never yet been taken by foe from without, and never will be yet, so utterly impregnable is its position.  Thou art in the hands of the Lord of Navailles, who has his own score to settle with thee, and who will not let thee go till thou hast resigned in thy brother’s name and thine own every one of those bold claims which, as he has heard, have been made to the Roy Outremer by one or both of you.  Now doth thy spirit quail? now dost thou hope for succour from without?  Bid adieu to all such fond and idle hopes.  Thou art here utterly alone, no man knowing what has befallen thee.  Thou art in the hands of thy two bitterest foes, men who are known and renowned for their cruelty and their evil deeds —­ men who would crush to death a hundred such as thou who dared to strive to bar their way.  Now what sayest thou? how about that boasted honour of thine?  Thou hadst best hear reason ere thou hast provoked thy foes too far, and make for thyself the best terms that thou canst.  Thou mayest yet save thyself something if thou wilt hear reason.”