“‘When the cat’s away the mice will play.’
“They will get on merrily without thee. One question thou must answer before we let thee go: On what business came ye hither?”
The mayor hesitated.
“S’death, dost keep me waiting? We have a torture chamber close at hand. Shall I summon the torturers? They will fit thy fat thumbs with a handsome screw in a moment.”
Poor mayor! Martyrdom was not his vocation, and he owned it.
“Nay, it can do no harm. We came to witness the last confession of a dying woman, who had some crime on her soul, which she wished to depose before fitting witnesses.”
“Of what nature?”
“I was not told. I waited to learn.”
“Why didst thou hesitate to say this just now?”
Poor mayor! He stammered out that he hoped he hadn’t offended therein.