"I don't know if you are endeavouring to frighten me. Surely you are aware that I am not to be terrified by threats?"
"With threats? Oh, no! I do not wish to frighten you with threats. That I will make you afraid, is true, but it will not be with threats--I am not so foolish. You think that nothing will make you afraid? Mr. Paxton, I have seen many men like that. When a man is fresh and strong, and can defend himself, and still has hopes, it takes a deal, perhaps, to make him afraid. But when a man is helpless, and is in the hands of those who care not what he suffers, and he has undergone a little course of scientific treatment, there comes a time when he is afraid--oh, yes! As you will see. Why, Mr. Paxton, what is the matter with you? You look as if you were afraid already."
Paxton's eyes were closed, involuntarily. Beads of sweat stood upon his brow. The muscles of his face seemed to be convulsed. It was a second or two before he was able to speak.
"These cords are killing me. Tell that friend of yours to loosen them."
"Loosen them? Why, certainly. Why not? My Skittles, loosen the cords which give Mr. Paxton so much annoyance--at once."
Skittles looked at the Baron with doubtful eyes.
"Do you mean it, Baron?"
The Baron--as the German-American was designated by Skittles--burst, without the slightest warning, into a frenzy of rage, which, although it was suggested rather than expressed, seemed to wither Skittles, root and branch, as if it had been a stroke of lightning.
"Mean it?--you idiot! How dare you ask if I mean it? Do as I say!"
Skittles lost no time in doing his best to appease the other's anger.