"Don't—don't! You're choking me!" groaned the wretch.
"Then speak! What are you doing here—whom do you want to see?"
"Just let me go and I'll tell you," pleaded his prisoner. "I can't speak while you're throttling me."
Mellen loosened his grasp on the man's throat, but still held him fast. His hold had been a fearful one—the man was actually breathless.
"Will you speak now?" he demanded, with terrible menace in his voice.
The man began to breathe more freely; but, though shaking with fear, he answered sullenly:
"I hain't got nothin' to tell; I was going to the house yonder, and took a short cut through here."
"What business have you at the house? Tell me the truth, for I will know."
The man could both see and feel that he was in horrible earnest; he might easily have supposed himself in the power of an insane man—and for the moment Mellen was little better.
"How do I know that you have a right to ask?" questioned the man.