Rumours of the Governor’s savage treatment of his prisoners had reached him, garnished with many a horrible story of torture and violence. He had now the evidence of this before his own eyes; perhaps to be threatened even against himself; and these things he might never have been able to prove had he declared himself earlier. That they were there to intimidate him he was soon to know, for a warder entered and began to make them ready for use. Gerard watched him curiously from the spot where he sat bound, and at length broke silence. “You ply a strange trade, my friend,” he said. “Prisoners must be silent,” answered the man. It was Pauline’s father, Pierre, who had received orders from de Proballe in the Duke’s name to have the ghastly instruments in readiness, and to do the work before the prisoner’s eyes. “Silence, too, eh? Is this another of your Governor’s pleasant methods of hospitality?” “I tell you to be silent,” replied Pierre gruffly. He had been both troubled and alarmed at the command which his daughter had brought from the Duchess. Fully prepared to do her bidding, he was nevertheless anxious so to do it as to prevent suspicion falling on himself. To him the event might mean life or death; and however strong the Duchess’s intentions might be to shield him in the event of discovery, she might lack the power, should the Governor get proof of his treachery. “So you are the Governor’s torturer,” said Gerard next. “I don’t envy you your trade.” “A man must live,” returned Pierre. “A pretext for villainy and cruelty as long as the world has been a world, I suppose. Yet were I a lusty fellow like you, I’d find some honester use for my muscles than to maim my fellow-men and drag their joints asunder, Master Torturer.” “I am no torturer,” said Pierre. “I am the warder.” “Warder only, eh? You get the torture ready and stand aside for some one with a tougher stomach to do the mangling. Yet by the look of your face, I think I’m wronging you. Those eyes of yours have a light in them that speaks of a better nature than your words imply.” “I have to obey my orders. You are a soldier they say, and should know that. Why are you placed here?” “That’s a question I could better put to you. To watch you set those instruments running smoothly for my poor bones, maybe.” “’Tis a sight many a brave man has quailed at seeing. But I mean, what is your crime; what have you done?” “As much as many of the Governor’s prisoners probably; that is, nothing.” “Then these are to find the offence.” Gerard laughed lightly. “You’ve a pleasant wit, warder. What’s your name?” “Pierre Delmont.” “And so you think, Pierre, that I am to be put in the embrace of some one of those pretty toys of yours in order to induce me to confess to something I haven’t done? And I suppose you speak after some experience.” “I have counselled many a man to confess to some light crime rather than face these; and more than one has scoffed at my words to his after sorrow.”