For a time at least the boy had quite forgotten his bodily sufferings. His enjoyment was monstrous, unholy.
“Say, sis,” he went on, “the trial’s over. I’ve just come from there.”
Eve looked up, startled. Every nerve in her body was quivering with a sudden tension.
“Yes, yes?” she cried.
“Yes, it’s sure over,” the boy added, prolonging his sister’s agony.
“Well? They––they acquitted him?” There was something absolutely imploring in her manner. It might well have moved a heart of stone.
But Elia’s heart, if he possessed such an organ, bore the brand of the fiend. He nodded first. Then, as he saw the joy leap to his sister’s eyes he shook his head vigorously, and the result pleased him.
“He’s got to die,” he said.
The woman suddenly reeled, and fell on her knees at the table, with her face buried on her outstretched arms. Elia watched her for some moments. He felt that here was some recompense for what he had gone through.