"Come," I said, "we can go now."
The terror which must have seized him when he saw me struggling on the floor had partly sobered him, but now he had returned to the most imbecile stage of his horrible vice. He struggled to his feet and clutched hold of me.
"Want my pipe," he muttered. "I say, old boy, won't go without my pipe."
I had hard work to keep my patience. He was a big man, and I could not control him against his will. We were by no means yet out of the wood. The four ruffians were eyeing us as if they would only too gladly kill us both by slow torture. Never before had I encountered eight such diabolical eyes as those which they fixed upon me. And there stood Tollemache, with an idiotic smile on his face, and imagining that he was doing a wonderful and clever thing when he refused to stir without his pipe.
"Don't be a fool," I said, sternly, to him. "Come, now, I'll get you your pipe to-morrow."
To my relief he seemed satisfied with this assurance, and suffered me to drag him across the room.
When we reached the door the big ruffian came up and intercepted us.
"We have your word not to peach?" he said.
"Yes," I replied—"let me pass."