"He went in chains; did you know that?"
"Yes," replied the Pole hesitatingly.
"Then where is he? You know that; you know more; a man is sent away in chains, herded with foul criminals; it is your doing; what have you done with him?"
"I don't know; may I never speak again if that is not true. He is probably in the mines."
As he said this, even the imminent pistol could not prevent Sowinski from betraying his rancorous satisfaction in a mocking curl of the lip and a half-suppressed chuckle. Yet Jack felt intuitively that in this case the man was speaking the truth; that he really did not know what had become of his victim after he had seen him safely wedged in the cattle-truck. There was scorn as well as a white heat of anger in Jack's reply.
"You infamous scoundrel! You would be justly served if I shot you where you stand, and for my own part the satisfaction would be worth the risk. But I can't kill even such vermin as you in cold blood; and if I spare you, be sure the day of reckoning is only deferred. There are a thousand Poles waiting to kill the traitor Ladislas Streleszki at sight."
The amazed and wretched man swayed as he stood; his hue turned still more ashen than before; his whole body seemed to shrink together with craven fear.
"Now, choose," continued Jack after a pause. "The pistol, or instant compliance with my demands.—Silence!" He heard the two Chinamen approach the door, and noticed a twitching of the Pole's mouth suggesting a cry for help. The impulse, if impulse it was, was immediately checked by Jack's stern command.
"Send them home."
Sowinski called to the men that they might go; he would require them no more that night.