"I will not betray the innocent."
"Seize him, tormentors."
'Twas said and done, and after a short and furious struggle, the victim was laid on the rack.
"Turn."
The tormentors, clad in leathern jerkins, hideous with masks to hide their brutal faces, turned the handles which worked pulleys and drew the victim's limbs out of joint.
"Hold--enough--I will confess."
"Release him."
"What dost thou ask me?"
"How many are there in the Dismal Swamp?"
"Maybe a hundred."