“Now,” said the judicious sergeant to the bound man, “if we untie you, will you promise to go off and make no more trouble.”
“You’ll not untie him in here,” cried the woman. “I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could blow him.”
There was silence.
“We might carry him outside, and undo him there,” said the soldier. “Then we could get the policeman, if he made any bother.”
“Yes,” said the sergeant. “We could do that.” Then again, in an altered, almost severe tone, to the prisoner. “If we undo you outside, will you take your coat and go without creating any more disturbance?”
But the prisoner would not answer, he only lay with wide, dark, bright, eyes, like a bound animal. There was a space of perplexed silence.
“Well, then, do as you say,” said the woman irritably. “Carry him out amongst you, and let us shut up the house.”
They did so. Picking up the bound man, the four soldiers staggered clumsily into the silent square in front of the inn, the woman following with the cap and the overcoat. The young soldiers quickly unfastened the braces from the prisoner’s legs, and they hopped indoors. They were in their stocking-feet, and outside the stars flashed cold. They stood in the doorway watching. The man lay quite still on the cold ground.
“Now,” said the sergeant, in a subdued voice, “I’ll loosen the knot, and he can work himself free, if you go in, Missis.”
She gave a last look at the dishevelled, bound man, as he sat on the ground. Then she went indoors, followed quickly by the sergeant. Then they were heard locking and barring the door.