“Your eyes gleam as if you had succeeded in something. Did you find Polcher?”
Sevier smiled, refusing to speak. McGillivray made to set the candle on the table, and his keen gaze at once noticed the absence of the four knives. He leaped to the wall and a glance told him they had been hastily wrenched from their fastenings.
His right hand plucked a pistol from inside his coat. Levelling it he demanded—
“Where are those knives?”
“Ask Polcher,” defied Sevier.
“If you have harmed Polcher I will kill you,” promised the emperor. Still keeping an eye on his “guest,” he stepped to the window and sounded his whistle. Up raced the pack in answer to the familiar call, with the two keepers trotting behind them. Scrambling and crowding, the brutes leaped up until their red eyes glared into the room. Without shifting his gaze from Sevier, McGillivray extended a hand and fondled whatever head came within reach. To the keepers he said:
“One of you stay with the dogs. The other run to Polcher’s cabin and see if any harm has come to him.”
The order was promptly obeyed and Sevier’s spirits rose as he observed the man was making off in the direction of the slave-quarters.
“You still refuse to talk?” demanded McGillivray.
“I prefer to wait,” was the calm reply.