and contrite avowal
ere you go hence. Confess, then, my son, and save your soul."

"Confess?" I echoed. "Confess to a falsehood? I have told you the truth
of this matter. I tell you that in all the world there is none less
prone to sacrilege than I that I am by nature and rearing devout and
faithful. These are lies which have been uttered to my hurt. In dooming
me you doom an innocent man. Be it so. I do not know that I have found
the world so delectable a place as to quit it with any great regret.
My blood be upon your own heads and upon this iniquitous and monstrous
tribunal. But spare yourselves at least the greater offence of asking my
confession of a falsehood."

The little eyes had vanished. The face grew very evil, stirred at last
into animosity by my denunciation of that court. Then the inscrutable
mask slipped once more over that odious countenance.

He took up a little mallet, and struck a gong that stood beside him.

I heard a creaking of hinges, and saw an opening in the wall to my
right, where I had perceived no door. Two men came forth--brawny,
muscular, bearded men in coarse, black hose and leathern waistcoats
cut deep at the neck and leaving their great arms entirely naked. The
foremost carried a thong of leather in his hands.

"The hoist," said the inquisitor shortly.

The men advanced towards me and came to replace the familiars between
whom I had been standing. Each seized an arm, and they held me so. I
made no resistance.

"Will you confess?" the inquisitor demanded. "There is still time to save
yourself from torture."

But already the torture had commenced, for the very threat of it is
known as the first degree. I was in despair. Death I could suffer. But
under torments I feared that my strength might fail. I felt my flesh
creeping and tightening upon my body, which had grown very cold with
the awful chill of fear; my hair seemed to bristle and stiffen until I
thought that I could feel each separate thread of it.

"I swear to you that I have spoken the truth," I cried desperately. "I
swear it by the sacred image of Our Redeemer standing there before you."

"Shall we believe the oath of an unbeliever attainted of sacrilege?" he
grumbled, and he almost seemed to sneer.

"Believe or not," I answered. "But believe this--that one day you shall
stand face to face with a Judge Whom there is no deceiving, to answer
for the abomination that you make of justice in His Holy Name. Let loose
against