Don't send me to prison." Detricand stirred him with his foot, as one might a pile of dirt.
"Listen," said he.

"In the Vier Marchi they're cutting off the ear of a man and nailing it to a post, because he ill-used a cow.

What do you suppose they'd do to you, if I took you down there and told them it was through you Rullecour landed, and that you'd have seen them all murdered--eh, maitre cormorant ?" The old man crawled towards Detricand on his knees.

"Let me go, let me go," he whined.

"I was mad; I didn't know what I was doing; I've not been right in the head since I was in the Guiana prison." At that moment it struck Detricand that the old man must have had some awful experience in prison, for now his eyes had the most painful terror, the most abject fear.