"It is we three who want you," he said—"not our aunt, and not our sister. If you answer our questions truly, you have nothing to fear. If you refuse——" He stopped, and looked toward Jean and the boiling cauldron.
Never, at the best of times, a resolute man; deprived, since the day before, of such resources of energy as he possessed, by the mental suffering which he had undergone in secret—the unfortunate priest trembled from head to foot, as the three brothers closed round him. Louis took the crucifix from him, and held it; Thomas forced him to place his right hand on it; Jean stood in front of him and put the questions.
"Our father has been brought home a murdered man," he said. "Do you know who killed him?"
The priest hesitated; and the two elder brothers moved him nearer to the cauldron.
"Answer us, on peril of your life," said Jean. "Say, with your hand on the blessed crucifix, do you know the man who killed our father?"
"I do know him."
"When did you make the discovery?"
"Yesterday."
"Where?"
"At Toulouse."