'It is true,' said the man, 'I might lie to you; but I will not, for I need my life. It is sweet to me as yours to you.'
'How can such a life be sweet?' I asked, daffing with the man in my power—which was 'bad form,' as John Mure himself sayeth in his history of the troubles.
'It is not a time to argue,' said he, 'but my life is as pleasant as the trees that toss their branches, and as the free life of the forest.'
'Too free altogether,' said I, 'thus to come in and threaten the life and honour of a decent woman. We must have such freedom trussed and stretched on a tow rope.'
'I did but fright her,' said he, sullenly.
'That is as may be,' replied I, keeping my pistol trained for his left eye-hole, 'and in any case it will be all the same in two hours.'
'But,' said he, 'hear me concerning the treasure of Kelwood. Ye have conquest the key. I can tell you where the box itself is. For if I win clear this time, I must escape over seas from the vengeance of the Grey Man.'
'But you may lie even as you have stolen, and I fear me murdered also, for by your talk you are one of a murderous set.'
'Of the lying you must e'en take your chance—even as, after telling you, I must take my chance of your cutting my bonds and letting me go.'
'You have a gentleman's word,' I answered him.