The prisoner looked like some savage bear borne down by force, or some demon captured and secured in magic cords. His face was nearly black with rage and hate, and casting a fierce glance at the magistrates, he said, “Is this the way you treat men before they are proved guilty of any crime. Take off the d—d ropes that are cutting me to the bone, and see the devil’s work your scoundrel men have done.” “As to your crime,” said Mr. Degge, “we have full evidence of that on the oath of Nathan Hopcraft.” “Ha!” said the writhing prisoner with a demon scowl, “that is the way the wind blows, eh? That is the dirty earth-worm that would swear away my life, eh? Release me. I will swear not to attempt to escape, as how could I?”—looking round—“Release me! let me stretch my limbs, and chafe them, or my heart will burst with rage. I will show you what that wretch is. I will show who is the murderer.” “Show us that,” said Mr. Degge, “and then we will ease your cords.” “Never!” said Scammel, with a voice full of fury, “never whilst I am thus tortured will I speak a word. Release me a few moments to make my limbs feel alive, and I will tell you all. I don’t want to save myself; I would rather die and have done with this hell of a world than not, but that crawling, creeping earth-worm—oh! I will give him his due.” The magistrates consulted a moment and then told Palin and Chaddick to stand in the open window, and the other men to range themselves in file round the prisoner. They then bade Latter and Boddily to loose his cords. This they did promptly, the prisoner groaning as one after another gave way, the very loosening seeming to send each time a pang through him. As soon as he was at liberty, he reared himself up a figure so tall and stalwart as to make even the magistrates feel the imprudence of their concession. “Put the handcuff on the prisoner’s right hand, and secure him to yourself, Latter,” said Sir Henry. “Stop a bit,” said the prisoner, “let me first chafe my limbs a little,” and with that he threw off his coat, drew up his sleeves, and showed the deep and livid trenches which the cords had left in his flesh. He held them up and cried, “Is that British? Is that Christian treatment?” and with that he began to chafe his arms with his hands. Then he pulled off his leggings, and began chafing his legs. Then buttoning his shirt sleeves again, he said, “Now for that villain that says I did it!” He held out his right hand for Latter to clasp on the handcuff, but in the same instant he gave a spring forward, dashed his head into the chest of Luke Palin, who stood in the open window, sent him spinning to a distance out on the lawn, and was through the window like a shot.