"Touching, isn't it?" asked Dr. Peterssen, and then cried savagely, "You pair of beauties! You reap what you have sown!"
By the dim light I perceived that we were in a kind of cave, the entrance to which was at the back of us, and I judged that the cavity was low down one of the dangerous cliffs of which we had been warned. After his attack upon us Dr. Peterssen must have carried us here and buried us alive, as it were. I subsequently learned that my surmise was correct, and that I had hit upon the exact method of our imprisonment.
Dr. Peterssen stuck the candle, in a niche, and approached me.
"Would you like to be free to speak?" he inquired. "If so, move your head."
I moved my head.
"You will not shout?" he continued. "You will not cry for help? Move your head again, and I accept it as your word of honor. You are a gentleman, and would not forfeit it." There was a frightful scorn in his voice when he referred to me as a gentleman.
I moved my head again, and he took the gag from my mouth.
"Raise your voice above its natural tone, and I cut this beauty's fingers off."
He took a clasp-knife from his pocket and opened the blade. It was sharp, it was bright, and I knew he would keep his word.
"A drink of water," I murmured.