"Have mercy!" he said. "Don't kill me. I—you don't know all! Voltaire's your enemy, not I."
"You knew I was following you, did you?" I said.
"Yes. Voltaire said you were mad for my life; that you swore to be revenged; that you would pull me limb from limb! Ah, you do not know."
Surely I had found out the man's nature. He was a coward, and stood in deadly fear of me. He had been Voltaire's tool, who had frightened him to do his every bidding. Now I must use his fear of me to make him do my will.
"Well, I have found you out," I said. "You thought you would master me, didn't you?"
"Well, I'm master of you both. Voltaire's influence over me is gone, and now he is in my power; while you—"
"Ah, Mr. Blake, have mercy," he whined. "I only did what he told me, and he has treated me like a dog."
"Yes; he intended me to kill you, while both of you tried to ruin me."
"Curse him! I know he did. Oh, I am not his friend now. Mr. Blake, forgive me. Ah, say—"
I felt that if I allowed this man to think my welfare depended on his doing my will, he would defy me. I must use means suitable to the man.