“Alas! alas!” exclaimed one of them, leaning eagerly forward; and they recognised Le Duc’s voice. “Ah, messieurs, you will understand the less said the better as to the past.”
Rayner took the hint, guessing that Le Duc was unwilling to have anything said in the presence of the two other prisoners which might implicate Madame La Roche or François.
“You have heard, messieurs, that they have condemned me to death,” continued Le Duc, “and the wonder is that they have not shot me already, but I know that at any moment I may be led out. I should wish to live that I may play the fiddle and make others happy as well as myself.”
“I am very sorry to hear this. If the commandant would believe us, we can prove your innocence, and, surely, our word ought to be taken instead of that of the two blacks,” said Rayner.
“So it would, according to law, for the evidence of the blacks is worth nothing, and is not received in a court of justice. It proves that the commandant has resolved, at all costs, to wreak his hatred of the English on your heads.”
Rayner and Oliver seated themselves on the stone bench near him. The men had drawn together on the opposite corner. Le Duc narrated how he had been captured just as he was quitting the village. His great fear had been lest he should be compelled to betray them; and he declared to Rayner, who believed him, that he would have undergone any torture rather than have done so.
Le Duc whispered that the two other prisoners had been condemned for murder.
“Pleasant sort of companions,” observed Oliver. “We may as well let them have their side of the prison to themselves.”
The men in the meantime had scraped the seat as clean as they could with their knives.
Tom, as usual, began to grumble.