“In te Domine speravi,” breathed the poor prisoner.
Minute after minute passed by, during which the struggle between bodily pain and will continued.
At last, Sir John looked at the governor and whispered.
“Another turn!” said the latter, reluctantly.
Another turn was given to the screw, and the prisoner fainted, his sensitive frame could bear no more.
They poured cold water over him, but it was long before he showed signs of consciousness, and when he did so, the governor said to Sir John—
“It is useless, we can go no further to-day.”
“But you will succeed to-morrow, the dread will be greater now he knows what pain is, and he will yield, I predict, when brought down once more; we shall not need a fresh application of the torture.”
“God grant it, for it is a pitiful sight, and I would sooner stand on the field of battle; one feels a man there, and not a brute.”