“I—I did not know. How could I know?”
“I do know it,” I said, putting up a bluff. It told. The despair in his eyes showed me this.
“Vastic would have killed me,” he murmured.
“And you preferred he should kill me. I see.”
“Oh, don’t say that; don’t think it, your Majesty. I am innocent. Indeed, indeed, I am. Oh, my God, that this should be thought of me;” and he set up his whining again.
“One more question, and I’ve done with you. How many men came with this Vastic?”
He showed such unnecessary agitation at the question that I saw he had still some hidden motive or hope, and I had threatened it.
“Only one, your Majesty; only the man you saw, as I am a living man.”
He was lying, of course; and equally, of course, I must have out of him the truth on a point of such vital import to us all at Brabinsk. I thought round his possible motive, and then hit on it.
He was trusting that Vastic’s associates would return to accomplish the task in which he had failed, and in that case they would of course rescue the spy who had served them so well.