“Edward Bolen nodded, and left the room. Bernard Peixada glared at me. I lay still, wondering what the next act was to be, fortifying myself to endure and survive the worst.
“Bernard Peixada said, ’You are going to cause yourself needless pain. You may as well speak now as afterward. You’ll be as docile as a lamb, in a minute or two.’
“I held my tongue. Presently Edward Bolen returned. He handed something to Bernard Peix-ada. Bernard Peixada turned to me. ’Which one of your ankles,’ he inquired, ’is it that you are having trouble with?’
“I did not speak.
“Bernard Peixada shrugged his shoulders. ’Oh, very well,’ he sneered; ’it won’t take long to find out.’ With that, he seized hold of the bed-clothes that covered me, and with a single motion of his arm tossed them upon the floor.
“I started up—attempted to spring from off the bed. He placed his hands upon my shoulders, and pushed me back, prostrate. I struggled with him. He summoned Edward Bolen to re-enforce him. Edward Bolen was a strong man. Edward Bolen had no difficulty in holding me down, flat upon the mattress. I watched Bernard Peixada.
“Bernard Peixada took the thing that I had seen Edward Bolen give him—it was a piece of thick twine, perhaps twelve inches in length, and attached at each end to a transverse wooden handle—he took it, and wound it about my ankle—the ankle that was sprained. Then, by means of the two wooden handles, he began to twist it around and around—and at every revolution, the twine cut deeper and deeper into my flesh—and at last they pain became more horrible than I could bear—oh, such pain, such fearful pain!—and I cried out for quarter.
“‘I will tell you any thing you wish to know,’ I said.
“‘As I anticipated,’ was Bernard Peixada’s comment. ’Well, where shall we find the paper that you stole?’
“‘Loosen that cord, and I will tell you—I will give it to you,’ I said.