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Benson, Robert Hugh, 1871-1914

"Come Rack! Come Rope!"

But when he has his back to
the wall--or on the rack for that matter--he will be as stiff as iron.
They will have their work to bend him by a hair's breadth."
Marjorie drew a breath of relief. She did not question Mr. Bassett's
judgment. But she had had an uneasy discomfort in her heart till he had
spoken so plainly.
"Well, sir," she said, "that is what I chiefly came for. I wished to
know if I could do aught for Mr. Thomas or his wife; and--"
"You can do a great deal for his wife," said he. "You can keep her quiet
and comfort her. She needs it, poor soul! I have told her for her
comfort that we shall have Thomas out again in a month--God forgive me
for the lie!"
Marjorie stood up; and the men rose with her.
"Why, what is that?" she said; and went swiftly to the window; for the
noise of the crying of the cheeses and the murmur of voices had ceased
all on a sudden.
Straight opposite the window where she stood was the tiled flight of
stairs that ran up from the market-place to the first floor of the
Guildhall, a great building where the business of the town was largely
done, and where the magistrates sat when there was need; and a lane that
was clear of booths and carts had been left leading from that door
straight across the square, so that she could see the two little
brobonets--or iron guns--that guarded the door on either side. It was up
this lane that she looked, and down it that there advanced a little
procession, the very sight of which, it seemed, had stricken the square
to silence.


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