“Why should I confess to a crime I never committed and blacken--ah, I think I see. You would show the confession to Mademoiselle de Malincourt. Is that the motive for this unexpected mercy, as you term it? I might have guessed it.” “Your answer?” “I would sooner cut my hand off than write the lie.” “It is well that I told Pierre to be prepared,” said de Proballe. “We know that you are Gerard de Cobalt, and that you devised the scheme of that letter to make us doubt you when you saw the danger in which you stood. But we have means at hand that will make you speak.” “Who, then, do you say you are?” asked the Governor. “For what crime am I made a prisoner and threatened with the torture?” “Prisoners are to answer, not question.” “Is it your custom here in Morvaix to imprison men first and ascertain their crimes afterwards? And to use the rack and the boot to drive them to make a false confession? This is not the law of France, my lord Duke, and you will beware how you threaten me with such iniquity.” “Will you speak and say who you are?” “I bear a name, my lord, which, were I to mention it, would make even you pause in the contemplation of this outrage. It is enough that I say I am a soldier and a man of honour and standing, with full right to be in your city. If I withhold my name now, it is only that I may see how far report has belied the evil reputation of your rule, and to what lengths you will go in wronging an innocent man.” “Brave words, brave words,” sneered de Proballe. “As for you, monsieur,” said Gerard, turning upon him. “Your notorious life in Paris prepared me to find you playing the part I see you filling in Morvaix. Having wormed your way with lies into your niece’s confidence, you were ready to betray her in the vile scheme your own lips confessed to me. Coward, bully, cheat, liar, and scoundrel, the part of procurer was still open to you in baseness; and you filled it with a treachery worthy even of you. Have no fear: you shall have your reward.” “’Fore God, this is too much,” cried de Proballe, rushing forward to strike Gerard in the face. But the Governor prevented him; he was none too sorry to hear de Proballe abused. “Stay, monsieur,” he said with cold contempt. “You take the truth badly. If you are minded to strike that blow, I will have the prisoner set free for your benefit.” “I have not deserved this at your hands, my lord,” said de Proballe; but the Governor let the protest pass with a sneer. “Your name, prisoner?” he said, sternly. “You shall hear it, my lord, never fear; and hearing it, shall understand all that this means to you.” “I hold you for the man you have already declared yourself. As Gerard de Cobalt you came here; you yourself gave that name, and in it you won your way into Malincourt; and as Gerard de Cobalt I will treat you. I give you two hours to decide whether you will admit this to be the truth, or compel me to have it dragged from you.”