“I won’t appeal to you,” I said, “by any claim of old friendship, to leave this poor wretch in peace. If common humanity can make no way with you, how shall any words of mine?”
He made a little sidling movement, to which I corresponded with a like.
“You’re welcome to measure your strength with mine,” I said. “You’ll have to do it before you can think to get at him.”
He looked at me with glittering eyes, as if debating my power to stop him.
“Duke!” I cried, “be merciful! If his crime was great, he has repented.”
He spoke at last, screwing out an ugly high little chuckle, with a straining of his whole body, like a cock crowing.
“Why, so have I!” he said. “There’s a place waiting for the two of us among the blessed saints, while she’s frying down below.”
“It was hers to forgive, and she has forgiven, I know. Be merciful and worthy of her you are to meet some day.”
“What can I do more disinterested, then, than send him repentant to sit with her. There’s a noble revenge to take! If he’d stopped in London I’d have allowed him a little longer, perhaps; but, as he wants to escape, I must make sure, or the devil might have me by the leg, you see.”
All the time we spoke, Jason was cowering among the hay, his breath sounding in quick gasps. Now he gave out a pitiful moan, and Duke bent his head waiting for a repetition, as if it were music to him.