Perceiving in whose presence he stood, and what preparations were made for him, Xit gave himself up for lost, and would have screamed aloud, had not his utterance failed him. His knees smote one another; his hair, if possible, grew more erect than ever; a thick damp burst upon his brow; and his tongue, ordinarily so restless, clove to the roof of his mouth.
“Bring forward the prisoner,” cried Renard, with a stern voice, but without turning his head.
Upon this, Nightgall seized Xit by the hand, and dragged him towards the table. A quarter of an hour elapsed, during which Renard continued writing as if no one were present; and Xit, who at first was half dead with fright, began to recover his spirits.
“Your excellency sent for me,” he ventured, at length.
“Ha!” ejaculated Renard, pausing and looking at him, “I had forgotten thee.”
“A proof that my case is not very dangerous,” thought Xit. “I must let this proud Spaniard see I am not so unimportant as he seems to imagine. Your excellency, I presume, desires to interrogate me on some point,” he continued aloud. “I pray you proceed without further delay.”
“Is it your excellency’s pleasure that we place him on the rack?” interposed Nightgall.
“Or shall we begin with the thumb-screws,” observed Mauger, pointing to a pair upon the table; “I dare say they will extort all he knows. It would be a pity to stretch him out.”
“I would not be an inch taller for the world,” rejoined Xit, raising himself on his tiptoes.
“I have a suit of irons that will exactly fit him,” observed Wolfytt, going to the wall, and taking down an engine that looked like an exaggerated pair of sugar-tongs. “These were made as a model, and have never been used before, except on a monkey belonging to Hairun the bearward. We will wed you to the ‘Scavenger’s Daughter,’ my little man.”
Xit knew too well the meaning of the term to take any part in the merriment that followed this sally.
“The embraces of the spouse you offer me are generally fatal,” he observed. “I would rather decline the union, if his excellency will permit me.”
“What is your pleasure?” asked Nightgall, appealing to Renard.
“Place him in the irons,” returned the latter. “If these fail, we can have recourse to sharper means.”
Xit would have flung himself at the ambassador’s feet, to ask for mercy, but he was prevented by Wolfytt, who slipping a gag into his mouth, carried him into the dark recess, and, by the help of Mauger, forced him into the engine. Diminished to half his size, and bent into the form of a hoop, the dwarf was then set on the ground, and the gag taken out of his mouth.
“How do you like your bride?” demanded Wolfytt, with a brutal laugh.
“So little,” answered Xit, “that I care not how soon I am divorced from her. After all,” he added, “uncomfortable as I am, I would not change places with Magog.”
This remark was received with half-suppressed laughter by the group around him, and Wolfytt was so softened that he whispered in his ear, that if he was obliged to put him on the rack, he would use him as tenderly as he could. “Let me advise you as a friend,” added the tormentor, “to conceal nothing.”
“Rely upon it,” replied Xit, in the same tone. “I’ll tell all I know—and more.”
“That’s the safest plan,” rejoined Wolfytt, drily.
By this time, Renard having finished his despatch, and delivered it to Nightgall, he ordered Xit to be brought before him. Lifting him by the nape of his neck, as he would have carried a lap-dog, Wolfytt placed him on the edge of the rack, opposite the ambassador’s seat. He then walked back to Mauger, who was leaning against the wall near the door, and laid his hand on his shoulder, while Nightgall seated himself on the steps. All three looked on with curiosity, anticipating much diversion. Sorrocold, who had never altered his posture, only testified his consciousness of what was going forward by raising his lack-lustre eyes from the ground, and fixing them on the dwarf.