“Well, let me up. What if I do not dispute it? What about that?”
“It proves beyond a doubt that you threw the stone at Merriwell with deadly intent, for I found it on the spot where you stood when you did the trick, just behind the bushes on that high ridge beside the road.”
Something like a mumbled curse came from Bertrand’s lips.
“Let me up,” he begged.
“Will you confess?”
“How can I confess down here this way? Let me up.”
“All right, but you must sit down beside the table here and sign a written confession. If you try any tricks, I shall prick you a little with this sticker. If you know much about me, you realize now that I mean business and I’ll make good every threat. If you were harmed and made charges against me I should swear that you attacked me with murderous intent after I came here and accused you, and that I did the trick in self-defense. Even if you were able to swear to the contrary, which is not likely after I jabbed you with this dainty tool, my word would be as good as yours. Now, get up—and sit down there!”
Hodge stood with the weapon held ready for instant use, and Defarge, like a whipped child, meekly obeyed.
“That’s right,” nodded the victor, with satisfaction. “Now, don’t dare to wriggle, for if you try to get hold of that sticker over in the corner I’ll be on top of you like a catamount, and I’ll finish the job instanter.”
Then Bart stepped over to a desk, still keeping nearer than Defarge to the weapon in the distant corner, and brought over an ink-well and writing-materials.[writing-materials.]