The lieutenant glared at me, his grey moustache bristling, his eyes almost starting from his head. Some of the troopers laid their hands on their swords, but no one moved, and only the captain spoke. "Mille diables!" he swore. "What is all this about? Are you mad, Sir?"
"Mad or sane!" I cried, still in a fury. "Lay on another lash, and you shall repent it."
"I?"
"Yes, you!"
For an instant there was a pause of astonishment. Then to my surprise the captain laughed--laughed loudly. "Very heroic!" he said. "Quite magnificent, M. le Chevalier-errant. But you see, unfortunately, you come too late!"
"Too late!" I said incredulously.
"Yes, too late," he replied, with a mocking smile. And the lieutenant grinned too. "You see the man has just confessed. We have only been giving him an extra touch or two, to impress his memory, and save us the trouble of tying him up again."
"I don't believe it," I said bluntly--but I felt the check, and fell to earth. "The man cannot speak."
"No, but he has managed to tell us that he will guide us to the place we want," the captain answered drily. "The whip, if it cannot find a man a tongue, can find him wits. What is more, I think, he will keep his word," he continued, with a hideous smile. "For I warn him that if he does not, all your heroics shall not save him! He is a rebel dog, and known to us of old, and I will flay his back to the bones--ay, until we can see his heart beating through his ribs--but I will have what I want--in your teeth, too, you d--d meddler."
"Steady, steady!" I said, somewhat sobered. I saw that he was telling me the truth. "He is going to take you to M. de Cocheforêt's hiding-place, is he?"