I repeated the question several times, and still the man kept his silence.
"Ye donnert scoondrel," cried Nicol, "tell us whae ye are, or ye'll hang the morn on the gallows-hill at Leyden."
Still the fellow would not speak.
"Let's tie him up," said Nicol, "and I'll ride wi' him on the horse afore me. He'll get justice when we win to the toun."
But this was not my policy. I had other things to think of than bringing marauders to trial. A sudden thought struck me.
"I will try him another way," said I to Nicol. "Do you stand aside."
The man lay on the ground where my servant's horse had thrown him, with a belt round his legs, and his arms knotted together. I went up to him, and stood over.
"Do you know who I am?" I asked sternly, in as tragic a voice as I could assume.
The man stared sulkily, but did not speak.
"You fool," I cried, "do you think that thus you will circumvent me? Know that I am the great doctor, Joannes Burnetus of Lugdunum, skilled in all arts of earth and heaven, able to tell divinations and prophecies, learned in all magic and witchery. I know all that thou hast done since thy birth, and thy father and grandsire before thee, all the wickedness which shall entitle thee to eternal damnation in that place which the Devil is even now preparing for thee. Yea, I can tell thee the very death which thou shalt die——"