"Yes?" said the voice again.
"Well, sir. The names of two of the friends of Mr. FitzHerbert are, Mr.
Bassett and Mr. Fenton. The names—"
"Bah!" (The word sounded like the explosion of a gun.)
"You are playing with us—"
"The names," murmured the priest slowly, "of two of Mr. Fenton's friends are Mr. FitzHerbert and—"
A face, upside-down, thrust itself suddenly almost into his. He could feel the hot breath on his forehead.
"See here, Mr. Alban. You are fooling us. Do you think this is a Christmas game? I tell you it is not yet three o'clock. There are three hours more yet—"
A smooth, sad voice interrupted. (The reversed face vanished.)
"You have threatened the prisoner," it said, "but you have not yet told him the alternative."
"No, my lord…. Yes, my lord. Listen, Mr. Alban. My lord here says that if you will answer these questions he will use his influence on your behalf. Your life is forfeited, as you know very well. There is not a dog's chance for you. Yet, if you will but answer these three questions—and no more—(No more, my lord?)—Yes; these three questions and no more, my lord will use his influence for you. He can promise nothing, he says, but that; but my lord's influence—well, we need say no more on that point. If you refuse to answer, on the other hand, there are yet three hours more to-day; there is all to-morrow, and the next day. And, after that, your case will be before my lords at the Assizes. You have had but a taste of what we can do…. And then, sir, my lord does not wish to be harsh…."