"Oh, it will hurt you no worse than it hurt me," averred Bristol, with a laugh. "If life is spared you, it may teach you a lesson of mercy to others. You are to be branded."
The wretch cried, begged to be spared; but all to no purpose. Dick called his men around him and told them the story, and his decision met their hearty approval. Not only so, but Susana exhibited no sign of pity or mercy for the cowering wretch.
A fire was made, and the horseshoe was heated.
"Now," announced Dick, when all was ready, "I will repay you in your own coin. This is the very same iron that branded me, and, while I do not fancy wearing a brand the same as yours—or allowing you to wear one similar to mine, rather—yet justice demands it. I feel again that iron searing my flesh; I feel again the rope around my neck; I hear again your mocking laughter, you execrable villain!"
"Have mercy! Have mercy!"
"Yes, I will have mercy; I will not hang you. I will give you your life. Hand me the iron!"
The victim writhed and screamed in anticipation of the acute agony he must suffer, as the iron was handed to Dick by a piece of wire caught in one of the nail holes.
Dick Bristol took the wire and held the red-hot shoe over the bare breast of his foe, smiling at his plea for mercy and his request for death at once, speedy and sure. He held it near enough for its heat to be keenly felt, and the cries of the craven wretch for mercy were indeed pitiful.
"Such mercy as you showed me!" reminded the detective. "I ought to brand your face with it instead of your breast. Suppose I lay it on your forehead and call you Cain? But, no, I will do no worse than you did to me. I will be merciful that far. When you feel it bite your flesh, when the smell of your own burning greets your nostrils, think of your own unmerciful act."
Dick moved as if to lay the shoe on the bare flesh, but hesitated. He glanced at Susana. She was standing by, her eyes on the ground, not a muscle moving. He recalled how she had pleaded for him, and contrasted her silence now. What were her thoughts? He looked again at his writhing victim, and allowed the voice within him to speak—the voice that had been struggling to be heard, yet which had been suppressed by his iron will.