“Drouet,” I said between my teeth, “I spared you an instant since—I might easily have killed you. I swear I will kill you yet if you utter another sound.”
He chuckled grimly as he looked towards the door.
“Many thanks, M. de Marsan,” he said, “but I think I have already uttered enough to spoil your game.”
For an instant I found myself looking over my shoulder with anxious eyes—then I remembered.
“There is no one there, Drouet,” I said triumphantly, rejoiced that it was my turn. “The sentry has been attended to.”
“Attended to!” he muttered, and looked again towards the door and then at me with distended eyes. “It is a plot, then!”
“A plot—yes,” I nodded. “But to business. You will turn over on your face, if you please.”
He hesitated, and I compelled his obedience with a prod of the poniard. He turned over slowly, with many groans.
“Now cross your hands behind you.”
The hands came back reluctantly.