It were vain for me to try and give expression to my feeling as I went past these fires across the stony yard, and entered between a guard or two at the other side. At the root of my horror was the sentiment that all was foreign, that I was no more to these midnight monsters round their torturing flames than a creature of the wood, less, perhaps, for were they not at sworn war with my countrymen, and had not I a share at least of the repute of regicide? And when, still led by the silent officer, I entered the building itself and walked through an unending corridor broken at intervals by black doors and little barred borrowed lights, and heard sometimes a moan within, or a shriek far off in another part of the building, I experienced something of that long swound that is insanity. Then I was doomed for the rest of my brief days to be among these unhappy wretches—the victims of the law or political vengeance, the forçat who had thieved, or poisoned, perjured himself, or taken human blood!
At last we came to a door, where Buhot stopped me and spoke, for the first time, almost, since we had left Versailles. He put his hand out to check a warder who was going to open the cell for my entrance.
“I am not a hard man, M. Greig,” said he, in a stumbling English, “and though this is far beyond my duties, and, indeed, contrary to the same, I would give you another chance. We shall have, look you, our friend the priest in any case, and to get the others is but a matter of time. 'Tis a good citizen helps the law always; you must have that respect for the law that you should feel bound to circumvent those who would go counter to it with your cognisance.”
“My good man,” I said, as quietly as I could, and yet internally with feelings like to break me, “I have already said my say. If the tow was round my thrapple I would say no more than that I am innocent of any plot against a man by whose family mine have lost, and that I myself, for all my loyalty to my country, would do much to serve as a private individual.”
“Consider,” he pleaded. “After all, this Hamilton may be a madman with nothing at all to tell that will help us.”
“But the bargain is to be that I must pry and I must listen,” said I, “and be the tale-pyat whose work may lead to this poor old buffoon's and many another's slaughtering. Not I, M. Buhot, and thank ye kindly! It's no' work for one of the Greigs of Hazel Den.”
“I fear you do not consider all,” he said patiently—so patiently indeed that I wondered at him. “I will show you to what you are condemned even before your trial, before you make up your mind irrevocably to refuse this very reasonable request of ours,” and he made a gesture that caused the warder to open the door so that I could see within.