"Not at all, sir; do not alarm yourself. The key, if you please. In which pocket is it?"
Hatchie approached, with the intention of searching his prisoner.
"Stand off, villain!" cried Maxwell, as he gave the mulatto a hearty kick in the neighborhood of the knee.
"Very well, sir," said Hatchie, not at all disconcerted by the blow.
Taking the rope he had brought, he dexterously passed it round the legs of the attorney, and made it fast to the tree.
"Now, sir, if you will tell which pocket contains the key, you will save yourself the indignity of being searched."
"Miserable villain! if you wish to commit violence upon me, you must do it without my consent."
"Sorry to disoblige you, sir," said Hatchie, with an affectation of civility; "but I must have the key."
"I have not the key; it is lost. If I had, you should struggle for it."
"You will pardon me for doubting your word. I must satisfy myself."