“Rudland, if the prisoner shows himself outside, shoot him at once.”
“You hound!” he shouted at that—“bring me food! d’ye hear? bring me food, or I’ll burn the house down!”
A little answer of laughter was clipt in the bud. The threat was to be considered. A moment later Brander’s step crossed the passage, and the man himself entered the room. His eye sought the fire-place, found its relief in the dead coldness there, and came back with a twinkle of mockery to the prisoner.
“You are hungry?” he said.
“What would you suppose, fellow?”
“That you are, of course. ’Tis a pitiful sensation. I’ve suffered it, believe me.”
“D’you think to starve me into tameness?”
“What!—a high-spirited gentleman like you? I believe—as I have advised elsewhere—that far more caustic measures will be necessary to prevail with you. Still, hunger is a very good ground-bait to precede the angler and his hook.”
“And you think to subdue me by such means? ’Tis a protecting clause of humanity that scoundrels cut their cloth according to the measure of their own cowardice.”
“According to the features of their hostages, by your leave, sir.”