"Perhaps," agreed I, carelessly, surveying him with a narrowed look. "I 'm not here to excuse police methods; they 're not very gentle, I 'll admit; but when we deal with crooks we 're obliged to hand them the only treatment they 're amenable to.
"Burke, you can't excite one bit of pity or sympathy in me for you, for I know you to be a cold-blooded, treacherous scoundrel, and whatever you have coming to you is only what you deserve. I 'm fixed to put you through as a principal in the murder of Page—sit down!" I thundered at him, for he had started to rise from his seat. He dropped back limply. "You wait till I 'm through. Your chance is coming in just about a minute. I promise not to interrupt—as long as you tell a straightforward story.
"As I said," I went on, "I 'm prepared to put you through as one of the principals; the bare fact of your arrest should be enough to convince you of my readiness.
"However, while I have n't any desire to spare you, we are in the habit of trading leniency to a rascal who is willing to turn State's evidence. It's a plain business proposition."
I imagined that he perked up a bit at this.
"Ah, then you are not so sure," he seemed to muse; "you would have me convict myself for your precious benefit."
"Maybe you can judge better before I have finished," returned I, unmoved. "You need not tell me anything about yourself, but I do need a few facts to complete my case against the others who were involved in this crime. It's up to you."
I retreated a step, folded my arms, and stood watching him—and waiting. I knew that he could n't tell the truth without filling in the gaps in his own case. I never am deterred by any compunction over the methods I am sometimes obliged to use to make an individual, whom I know deserves no consideration, speak. With a knave like Burke I would as lief resort to thumb-screws, the boot, the rack, or even to choking the words from him, as to trust to persuasion alone. To tell the truth, my preference lies with the means first enumerated: they are much more prompt and direct. The worst indictment that one may bring against the old-time torture is that it was not applied with judgment and discrimination, nor always confined to legitimate ends. I fear that I shock you. But I am not by any means a cruel, blood-thirsty person. I merely speak from long years of experience. Whenever I hear a misguided soul deploring the so-called "third degree"—why, I have something in pickle for him.
This, however, is not the place to open the pickle-jar.
Perhaps, though, Burke's suffering was as poignant as if his ordeal were physical. How restlessly the man's slender, bloodless fingers curled and uncurled! Still, his self-control was wonderful; his white face remained indecipherable, the pale eyes stared at me unblinkingly and without mirroring a single emotion that I could discern. Then the change came so quickly that it almost caught me off my guard.