"Ha! thou unfanged reptile, so we have thee by the throat?" cried Roland, withdrawing his keen, sharp weapon for the death-thrust; "off with it, to the dregs—yea, to the very dregs?"
The tongue of Birrel clove to his palate, for the fear of death and love of life were strong in his breast; he had dropped ten grains into the goblet—and he remembered the words of his master, that each grain was the life of a man. He gasped for breath, but could only utter inarticulate murmurs. He turned towards the doorway, and there stood Lintstock with his eye full of ferocity and his axe uplifted.
"Harkee, hound! dost thou hear me?" said Vipont, spurning him with his foot.
"Oh, Sir Roland, have mercy, have mercy! The servant is not responsible for what he does by the orders of his master?"
"A pleasant rascal this!" said Leslie. "So thou hast a master, eh?"
Birrel stammered, and paused; for, villain as he was, he meant not to betray Redhall.
"Think not that, by divulging his name, thou wilt save thy hang-dog life!" said Roland—who mistook his delay—"for I swear by the God that is in heaven! if thou drainest not this draught to the very bottom, I will run thee through the heart without more preamble. So quick! quick! swallow, swallow! dost think we have time to trifle about crushing a reptile so despicable as thee!"
The villain sank upon his knees, for they refused to sustain his weight; fear froze the very pulses of his heart, and palsied his tongue; his countenance became livid and clayey; his eyes sank, and his lips became blue.
"How frightful this villain is!" said Leslie. "Did ever a brave man look thus in the face of death?"
"Mercy, sirs! mercy! I will sin no more; I will be a gudeman and true—I will tell ye all—my master's name—but mercy, sirs! mercy!"