Tyler cast a frightened look at the speaker and began to tremble again. Said Chesty Todd, leaning back in his chair with his hands thrust into his pockets:
“That’s the idea. The prisoner belongs to Mr. Cumberford.”
Cumberford sat in his characteristic attitude, stooping forward and thoughtfully stroking his grizzled mustache.
“Did I hurt you very much when I kicked you, Tyler?” he meekly asked.
“No, sir!” protested the man, eagerly.
“Would you have thought of such a revenge had not Burthon suggested it, and paid you to carry it out?”
“No, sir!”
“M—m. Would you like to murder me now?”
“No, sir!”
“What will you do if I set you at liberty?”