But his throat was torn and strained; the sound of his own
voice frightened him.
Once more the torment began. The tortured man was weaker now, and
in consequence he resisted more feebly; but not until he was less
than half conscious did Law spare him time to recover.
Jose lay sick, frightened, inert. Dave watched him without pity.
The fellow's wrists were black and swollen, his lips were
bleeding; he was stretched like a dumb animal upon the
vivisectionist's table, and no surgeon with lance and scalpel
could have shown less emotion than did his inquisitor. Having no
intention of defeating his own ends, Dave allowed his victim ample
time in which to regain his ability to suffer.
Alaire Austin had been right when she said that Dave might be
ruthless; and yet the man was by no means incapable of compassion.
At the present moment, however, he considered himself simply as
the instrument by which Alaire was to be saved. His own feelings
had nothing to do with the matter; neither had the sufferings of
this Mexican. Therefore he steeled himself to prolong the agony
until the murderer's stubborn spirit was worn down. Once again he
put his question, and, again receiving defiance, jammed the
canteen between Jose's teeth.
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