There was a pause.
Robin was counting up the hours. It was three o'clock now. Then he had been on the rack, with intervals, since nine o'clock. That was six hours. There was but half that again for to-day. Then would come the night. He need not consider further than that…. But he must guard his tongue. It might speak, in spite—-
"Well, Mr. Alban?"
He opened his eyes.
"Well, sir?"
"Which is it to be?"
The priest smiled and closed his eyes again. If he could but fix his attention on the mere pain, he thought, and refuse utterly to consider the way of escape, he might be able to keep his unruly tongue in check.
"You will not, then?"
"No."
* * * * *