"No!"
"Will you tell me if I let you go?"
"No."
"Will you tell me if I give you back your trench-knife?"
The white agony in her face interested and amused him and he waited her reply with curiosity.
"No!" she whispered.
"Will you tell me where McKay is to be found if I promise to shoot you before—"
"No!" she burst out with a strangling sob.
He lighted another cigarette and, for a while, considered her musingly as he sat smoking. After a while he said: "You are rather dirty—all over blood. But you ought to be pretty after you're washed." Then he laughed.
The girl swayed where she stood, fighting to retain consciousness.