“I am Lord Wheatley,” said I, nodding to him.  “You came to steal my cattle, and murder me, if it happened to be convenient, you know.”

The boy flashed out at me in a minute: 

“I didn’t.  I thought you’d surrender, if we got the cattle away.”

“You thought,” said I, scornfully.  “I suppose you did as you were bid.”

“No; I told Constantine that they weren’t to—­” The boy stopped short, looked round him, and said in a questioning voice:  “Where are all the rest of my people?”

“The rest of your people,” said I, “have run away.  You are in my hands.  I can do just as I please with you.”

His lips set in an obstinate curve, but he made no answer.  I went on as sternly as I could:  “And when I think of what I saw here yesterday—­of that poor old man stabbed by your blood-thirsty crew—­”

“It was an accident,” he cried, sharply; the voice had lost its dreaminess, and sounded clear now.

“We’ll see about that when we get Constantine and Vlacho before a judge,” I retorted grimly.  “Anyhow, he was foully stabbed in his own house, for doing what he had a perfect right to do.”

“He had no right to sell the island,” cried the boy; and he rose for a moment to his feet, with a proud air, only to sink back again into the chair and stretch out his hand for water again.

Now at this moment Denny, refreshed by meat and drink, and in the highest of spirits, bounded into the hall.

“How’s the prisoner?” he cried.

“Oh, he’s all right.  There’s nothing the matter with him,” I said; and, as I spoke, I moved the lantern, so that the boy’s face and figure were again in shadow.

“That’s all right,” observed Denny, cheerfully.  “Because I thought, Charlie, we might get a little information out of him.”

“Perhaps he won’t speak,” I suggested, casting a glance at the captive, who sat now motionless in the chair.

“Oh, I think he will,” said Denny, confidently; and I observed for the first time that he held a very substantial looking whip in his hand; he must have found it in the kitchen.  “We’ll give the young ruffian a taste of this, if he’s obstinate,” said Denny; and I cannot say that his tone witnessed any great desire that the boy should prove at once compliant.

I shifted my lantern so that I could see the proud young face while Denny could not.  The boy’s eyes met mine defiantly.

“You hear what he proposes?” I asked.  “Will you tell us all we want to know?”

The boy made no answer, but I saw trouble in his face, and his eyes did not meet mine so boldly now.

“We’ll soon find a tongue for him,” said Denny, in cheerful barbarity; “upon my word, he richly deserves a thrashing.  Say the word, Charlie.”

“We haven’t asked him anything yet,” said I.

“Oh, I’ll ask him something.  Look here, who was the fellow with you and Vlacho?”