“No, my lord....  Yes, my lord.  Listen, Mr. Alban.  My lord here says that if you will answer these questions he will use his influence on your behalf.  Your life is forfeited, as you know very well.  There is not a dog’s chance for you.  Yet, if you will but answer these three questions—­and no more—­(No more, my lord?)—­Yes; these three questions and no more, my lord will use his influence for you.  He can promise nothing, he says, but that; but my lord’s influence—­well, we need say no more on that point.  If you refuse to answer, on the other hand, there are yet three hours more to-day; there is all to-morrow, and the next day.  And, after that, your case will be before my lords at the Assizes.  You have had but a taste of what we can do....  And then, sir, my lord does not wish to be harsh....”

There was a pause.

Robin was counting up the hours.  It was three o’clock now.  Then he had been on the rack, with intervals, since nine o’clock.  That was six hours.  There was but half that again for to-day.  Then would come the night.  He need not consider further than that....  But he must guard his tongue.  It might speak, in spite—–­

“Well, Mr. Alban?”

He opened his eyes.

“Well, sir?”

“Which is it to be?”

The priest smiled and closed his eyes again.  If he could but fix his attention on the mere pain, he thought, and refuse utterly to consider the way of escape, he might be able to keep his unruly tongue in check.

“You will not, then?”

“No.”

* * * * *

The appalling pain ran through him again like fiery snakes of iron—­from wrist to shoulders, from ankles to thighs, as the hands seized him and lifted him....

There was a moment or two of relief as he sank down once more into the trough of torture.  He could feel that his feet were being handled, but it appeared as if nothing touched his flesh.  He gave a great sighing moan as his arms were drawn back over his head; and the sweat poured again from all over his body.

Then, as the cords tightened: 

“As Thy arms, O Christ, were extended ...” he whispered.

CHAPTER IX

I

A great murmuring crowd filled every flat spot of ground and pavement and parapet.  They stood even on the balustrade of St. Mary’s Bridge; there were fringes of them against the sky on the edges of roofs a quarter of a mile away.  No flat surface was to be seen anywhere except on the broad reach of the river, and near the head of the bridge, in the circular space, ringed by steel caps and pike-points, where the gallows and ladder rose.  Close beside them a column of black smoke rose heavily into the morning air, bellying away into the clear air.  A continual steady low murmur of talking went up continually.