“The weaker she is the less will she will have,” he muttered. “Her will is so strong that you will never move her to tell what you want to know; and you do not want to kill her, I know.” “No,” he admitted, with a scowl. “She will do almost anything you tell her, except to reveal what will injure that one person; that seems to be an instinct which nothing can conquer, and your magnetic force is not sufficient to overcome it.” “You do not need to tell me that,” he growled. “Well, I want you to let her alone for awhile; _I_ don’t want her dying on _my_ hands,” returned the woman, with decision. The ill-looking man did not reply, but made a few passes over Editha’s head and face, touching her on the forehead and in the region of the epigastrium. Almost instantly the wild look faded from her eyes, her clasped hands dropped apart, and fell limp and nerveless upon the counterpane, while she lay panting and exhausted, but looking much more natural to Earle than she had done a moment before with that strained look on her face. The woman came forward, gently raised her head, and held a bowl to her lips, from which she drank eagerly, and seemed much refreshed. Once more the villain turned toward her, and said, with sullen ferocity: “Well, my plucky fine lady, how much longer do you suppose you can stand this kind of thing?” Editha made no reply, but her eyes, which seemed unnaturally large, now that she was so thin, gleamed defiance at him. “You are getting weaker every day, and you’re getting so pale and poor that that fine young chap you’re so fond of would not know you if he should see you now,” he continued, heartlessly. A look of inexpressible sadness settled upon the fair face, the white lids quivered a moment and then drooped over the blue eyes, and the pale lips trembled painfully; but she made no other sign of her suffering, uttered no word to his cruel taunt. Her silence exasperated him, and, leaning down so that his face came almost on a level with hers, he hissed: “You _shall_ tell me where that paper is, or you shall never see the outside of these walls again. Do you hear?” “I will _never_ tell you,” she now said, in a weak voice, but with a firmness that made another fierce oath leap to his lips, and sent a shudder through her slight frame. Earle ground his teeth, but waited to hear no more. He noiselessly descended from his perch, dressed himself with all possible dispatch, all excepting his boots; then quietly unlocking his door, opened it a crack, and stood there in the dark waiting. His mind was made up to do a bold thing. His weariness and illness were all forgotten; his nerves were steady and quiet, and the strength of a Samson seemed quivering in every muscle. He waited perhaps fifteen minutes, when he heard the key turn in the door of the room on his right. Another moment and the wretch whom he had seen there came forth and took a preliminary survey of the hall before proceeding further.