ll the court? There would be no need
of such hour,--no need of that prolonged questioning. All that was
wanted of him would be revealed at once. The whole secret would be
screwed out of him by the first turn of the tormentor's engine.

There was but one thing quite fixed in his mind. Nothing should
induce him to face Mr Cheekey, unless he should have made himself
comparatively safe by destroying the will. In that way he almost
thought he might be safe. The suffering would be great. The rack and
the thumbscrew, the boots and the wheel, would, to the delight of all
those present, be allowed to do their work upon him for hours. It
would be a day to him terrible to anticipate, terrible to endure,
terrible afterwards in his memory; but he thought that not even Mr
Cheekey himself would be able to extract from him the admission of
such a deed as that.

And then by the deed he would undoubtedly acquire Llanfeare. The
place itself was not dear to him, but there was rising in his heart
so strong a feeling of hatred against those who were oppressing him
that it seemed to him almost a duty to punish them by continued
possession of the property. In this way he could triumph over them
all. If once he could come down from Mr Cheekey's grasp alive, if he
could survive those fearful hours, he would walk forth from the court
the undoubted owner of Llanfeare. It would be as though a man should
endure some excruciating operation under the hands of a surgeon, with
the assured hope that he might enjoy perfect health afterwards for
the remainder of his life.

To destroy the will was his only chance of escape. There was nothing
else left to him, knowing, as he did, that it was impossible for him
to put an end to his own life with his own hands. These little plots
of his, which he had planned for the revelation of his secret without
the acknowledgment of guilt, had all fallen to pieces as he attempted
to execute them. He began to be aware of himself that anything that
required skill in the execution was impossible to him. But to burn
the will he was capable. He could surely take the paper from its
hiding-place and hold it down with the poker when he had thrust it
between the bars. Or, as there was no fire provided in these summer
months, he could consume it by the light of his candle when the
dead hours of the night had come upon him. He had already resolved
that, when he had done so, he would swallow the tell-tale ashes. He
believed of him