"Nay, not yet, methinks," quoth he, biting his lip and gloating o’er my agony. "Hold you his left hand, and gi’ me a pistol, Dick," he added, with another cruel jab that fairly made me groan. The other, who had withdrawn my weapons, hasted to obey, and next moment I was staring up the barrel of a pistol which threatened me between the eyes. "Make one sound," hissed my tormentor savagely, "and there’s a bullet through your head in no time." His face endorsed the statement, and certainly I was not going to put it to the proof. At least his knee had left my chest, and for so much I was more than thankful. I took a long, deep breath, then gazed at each of them intently, as they knelt beside me, holding down my hands and threatening me with pistols--and those, alas! my own. Both were as ill-favoured, wicked-looking rascals as one could hope to see, armed with swords and knives, hired desperadoes fit for anything. In truth, things had an ugly look enough, but I was minded to know something of my future fate if it were possible. "Well, and what next?" I asked. "You come with us," said he who had been kneeling on me. "Ah! and where to?" "Where bidden and where led." "Who sent you on this business?" "That’s our concern. Ask no more questions." I had no wish to do so; and, indeed, I knew the answer to my last one just as well as they did. Yes, their master’s name was graven on their evil faces. The tools of Ferguson were not to be mistaken. "Wilt let me rise?" I asked. Their answer was to free my arms and draw back a little, though still covering me with both pistols. So I sat up and stared at them afresh, the while I strove to form swift plans for their destruction. But this seemed hopeless beyond measure, for my sword lay well behind them; I had no weapon save my fists, and what were they against two pistol bullets, which the slightest threatening movement would most assuredly bring crashing through my skull? Nor would a shout for help be any less disastrous, even supposing help were to be had in such a lonely place at such a time. But I had little chance to think upon such profitless affairs, for, bringing the pistol nearer to my face, the leader said: "Put your hands close together, that we may bind them. The rope, Dick!" There being nothing else for it, I instantly obeyed, and held them out; while the man he called Dick brought forth a knot of cord and hasted to unwind it. Thus it seemed that, notwithstanding all my strength, I should soon be bound and helpless--entirely at the mercy of these two conspiring villains. But in that pressing moment some words of Coram’s flashed into my brain. "Stay!" I said, "there’s surely some mistake." He with the rope grinned mockingly, while his companion jerked the pistol threateningly and growled: "What’s that? What mean you?" "Why, this," I answered, lowering my hands apart. "’Twere well to make quite sure of things before you act." "What riddle’s that?" asked he.