"The forests around thee."
"Dost thou know the Dismal Swamp?"
"Well."
"Hast thou been hiding there?"
"Yes."
"How many of thy comrades are in hiding at that place?"
"I may not tell thee."
"Behold. Tormentor, remove the curtain."
The curtain was drawn back, and revealed a strange assortment of those implements by which man, worse than the beast of the field, has sinned against his fellow. There were the rack, the brazier with its red-hot pincers, the thumbscrew, and, in short, instruments--happily unknown now--in the greatest variety; all intended to wring the truth from crime, or worse, the self-condemning falsehood from the lips of helpless innocence {[xiv]}.
"Wilt thou answer?"