“If the witness so desires,” said the Master.
“What is that document for?” whispered Adrian in a hoarse voice.
“To persuade your treacherous rival, Foy van Goorl, that it will be desirable in the interests of his health that he should retire from Leyden for a while,” sneered his late mentor, while the Butcher and Black Meg sniggered audibly. Only the monk stood silent, like a black watching fate.
“I’ll not sign!” shouted Adrian. “I have been tricked! There is treachery!” and he bent forward to spring for the door.
Ramiro made a sign, and in another instant the Butcher’s fat hands were about Adrian’s throat, and his thick thumbs were digging viciously at the victim’s windpipe. Still Adrian kicked and struggled, whereon, at a second sign, the villainous-looking man drew a great knife, and, coming up to him, pricked him gently on the nose.
Then Ramiro spoke to him very suavely and quietly.
“Young friend,” he said, “where is that faith in me which you promised, and why, when I wish you to sign this quite harmless writing, do you so violently refuse?”
“Because I won’t betray my stepfather and brother,” gasped Adrian. “I know why you want my signature,” and he looked at the man in a priest’s robe.
“You won’t betray them,” sneered Ramiro. “Why, you young fool, you have already betrayed them fifty times over, and what is more, which you don’t seem to remember, you have betrayed yourself. Now look here. If you choose to sign that paper, or if you don’t choose, makes little difference to me, for, dear pupil, I would almost as soon have your evidence by word of mouth.”
“I may be a fool,” said Adrian, turning sullen; “yes, I see now that I have been a fool to trust in you and your sham arts, but I am not fool enough to give evidence against my own people in any of your courts. What I have said I said never thinking that it would do them harm.”