The Midnight Queen [57]
run you through where
you stand!"
The earl, with a perfect screech of terror, flung himself flat
upon his face and hands before the queen, with such force, that
Sir Norman expected to see his countenance make a hole in the
floor.
"O madame! spare me! spare me! spare me! Have mercy on me as you
hope for mercy yourself!"
She recoiled, and drew back her very garments from his touch, as
if that touch was pollution, eyeing him the while with a glance
frigid and pitiless as death.
"There is no mercy for traitors!" she coldly said. "Confess your
guilt, and expect no pardon from me!"
"Lift him up!" shouted the dwarf, clawing the air with his hands,
as if he could have clawed the heart out of his victim's body;
"back with him to his place, guards, and see that he does not
leave it again!"
Squirming, and writhing, and twisting himself in their grasp, in
very uncomfortable and eel-like fashion, the earl was dragged
back to his place, and forcibly held there by two of the guards,
while his face grew so ghastly and convulsed that Sir Norman
turned away his head, and could not bear to look at it.
"Confess!" once more yelled the dwarf in a terrible voice, while
his still more terrible eyes flashed sparks of fire - "confess,
or by all that's sacred it shall be tortured out of you. Guards,
bring me the thumb-screws, and let us see if they will not
exercise the dumb devil by which our ghastly friend is
possessed!"
"No, no, no!" shrieked the earl, while the foam flew from his
lips. "I confess! I confess! I confess!"
"Good! And what do you confess?" said the duke blandly, leaning
forward, while the dwarf fell back with a yell of laughter at the
success of his ruse.
"I confess all - everything - anything! only spare my life!"
"Do you confess to having told Charles, King of England, the
secrets of our kingdom and this place?" said the duke, sternly
rapping down the petition with a roll of parchment.
The earl grew, if possible, a more ghastly white. "I do - I
must! but oh! for the love of - "
"Never mind love," cut in the inexorable duke, "it is a subject
that has nothing whatever to do with the present case. Did you
or did you not receive for the aforesaid information a large sum
of money?"
"I did; but my lord, my lord, spare - "
"Which sum of money you have concealed," continued the duke, with
another frown and a sharp rap. "Now the question is, where have
you concealed it?"
"I will tell you, with all my heart, only spare my life!"
"Tell us first, and we will think about your life afterward. Let
me advise you as a friend, my lord, to tell at once, and
truthfully," said the duke, toying negligently with the
thumb-screws.
"It is buried at the north corner of the old wall at the head of
Bradshaw's grave. You shall have that and a thousandfold more if
you'll only pardon - "
"Enough!" broke in the dwarf, with the look and tone of an
exultant demon. "That is all we want! My lord duke, give me the
death-warrant, and while her majesty signs it, I will pronounce
his doom!"
The duke handed him a roll of parchment, which he glanced
critically over, and handed to the queen for her autograph. That
royal lady spread the vellum on her knee, took the pen and
affixed her signature as coolly as if she were inditing a sonnet
in an album. Then his highness, with a face that fairly
scintillated with demoniac delight, stood up and fixed his eyes
on the ghastly prisoner, and spoke in a voice that reverberated
like the tolling of a death-bell through the room.
"My Lord of Gloucester, you have been tried by a council of your
fellow-peers, presided over by her royal self, and found guilty
of high treason. Your sentence is that you be taken hence,
immediately, to the block, and there be beheaded, in punishment
of your crime."
His highness wound up this
you stand!"
The earl, with a perfect screech of terror, flung himself flat
upon his face and hands before the queen, with such force, that
Sir Norman expected to see his countenance make a hole in the
floor.
"O madame! spare me! spare me! spare me! Have mercy on me as you
hope for mercy yourself!"
She recoiled, and drew back her very garments from his touch, as
if that touch was pollution, eyeing him the while with a glance
frigid and pitiless as death.
"There is no mercy for traitors!" she coldly said. "Confess your
guilt, and expect no pardon from me!"
"Lift him up!" shouted the dwarf, clawing the air with his hands,
as if he could have clawed the heart out of his victim's body;
"back with him to his place, guards, and see that he does not
leave it again!"
Squirming, and writhing, and twisting himself in their grasp, in
very uncomfortable and eel-like fashion, the earl was dragged
back to his place, and forcibly held there by two of the guards,
while his face grew so ghastly and convulsed that Sir Norman
turned away his head, and could not bear to look at it.
"Confess!" once more yelled the dwarf in a terrible voice, while
his still more terrible eyes flashed sparks of fire - "confess,
or by all that's sacred it shall be tortured out of you. Guards,
bring me the thumb-screws, and let us see if they will not
exercise the dumb devil by which our ghastly friend is
possessed!"
"No, no, no!" shrieked the earl, while the foam flew from his
lips. "I confess! I confess! I confess!"
"Good! And what do you confess?" said the duke blandly, leaning
forward, while the dwarf fell back with a yell of laughter at the
success of his ruse.
"I confess all - everything - anything! only spare my life!"
"Do you confess to having told Charles, King of England, the
secrets of our kingdom and this place?" said the duke, sternly
rapping down the petition with a roll of parchment.
The earl grew, if possible, a more ghastly white. "I do - I
must! but oh! for the love of - "
"Never mind love," cut in the inexorable duke, "it is a subject
that has nothing whatever to do with the present case. Did you
or did you not receive for the aforesaid information a large sum
of money?"
"I did; but my lord, my lord, spare - "
"Which sum of money you have concealed," continued the duke, with
another frown and a sharp rap. "Now the question is, where have
you concealed it?"
"I will tell you, with all my heart, only spare my life!"
"Tell us first, and we will think about your life afterward. Let
me advise you as a friend, my lord, to tell at once, and
truthfully," said the duke, toying negligently with the
thumb-screws.
"It is buried at the north corner of the old wall at the head of
Bradshaw's grave. You shall have that and a thousandfold more if
you'll only pardon - "
"Enough!" broke in the dwarf, with the look and tone of an
exultant demon. "That is all we want! My lord duke, give me the
death-warrant, and while her majesty signs it, I will pronounce
his doom!"
The duke handed him a roll of parchment, which he glanced
critically over, and handed to the queen for her autograph. That
royal lady spread the vellum on her knee, took the pen and
affixed her signature as coolly as if she were inditing a sonnet
in an album. Then his highness, with a face that fairly
scintillated with demoniac delight, stood up and fixed his eyes
on the ghastly prisoner, and spoke in a voice that reverberated
like the tolling of a death-bell through the room.
"My Lord of Gloucester, you have been tried by a council of your
fellow-peers, presided over by her royal self, and found guilty
of high treason. Your sentence is that you be taken hence,
immediately, to the block, and there be beheaded, in punishment
of your crime."
His highness wound up this