placed himself behind the back of the fettered monster. His face assumed
an expression of cold pitilessness, he bit his lips as if he wanted
blood, and screwed up his eyes.

"Harken now, my dear son!" said the rector in a gentle voice; "don't
fancy we want to do you any harm, for of course how can you help what is
written in this letter; but if you want to escape scot free, answer
truly and without compulsion to the questions that I am about to put to
you."

The headsman's 'prentice with twitching features gazed fixedly at the
interrogated wretch.

"Who gave you this letter?" asked the rector.

Mekipiros sat there tied with cords so as to be almost bent double with
his head between his knees, and did not seem to be aware that he was
spoken to.

"Do you hear?" whispered the headsman's apprentice hoarsely, at the same
time giving him a vicious pinch.

The monster set up a howl, which lasted only for an instant, then he
was silent again, and his face did not change.

"Is it not true now, my dear son, that a gentleman gave you this
letter?" asked the rector, giving the question another turn.

Mekipiros made no reply.

"I'll make you speak!" yelled his chief persecutor with gnashing teeth,
and seizing his head between his muscular fists he shook it violently
backwards and forwards. "I'll bring you to reason!"

The monster kept on howling so long as his hair was being tugged; his
eyes vanished completely, his head seemed to have grown broader than it
was long; but when they let his head go again he only grinned derisively
and said nothing.

"My son, bethink you that we do not want to do you any harm if you
confess everything, but, on the other hand, we shall have to chastise
you unmercifully, as you well deserve, if you stubbornly remain
silent--who gave you this letter?"

"Speak, you wretched dog! What were you told to say? Who gave you this
letter?" hissed the headsman's apprentice in his ear.

"You gave it to me!" cried the wretch defiantly.

"Scoundrel!" thundered the other furiously, at the same time giving the
prisoner a kick; "so you want to palm it off upon me, eh? Hie, there!--a
rope!" The fellow's face was as white as the wall, perhaps with fear,
perhaps with anger. The rector also grew pale for a moment.

"Yes, you put it into my hand and told me that I was to----"

"Hold your tongue, you wretched creature! Here we have a peasant cub
just as ragged as anyone of us, and yet he takes it upon him