Bestir those wits of yours.

Is there no way in which it might be done, no disguise under which I might escape ?" "Escape ?" quoth I, looking at him, and endeavouring to keep from my eyes the contempt that was in my heart.

Dear God! Had revenge been all I sought of him, how I might have gloated over his miserable downfall! "Do not stand there staring with those hollow eyes," he cried, anger and fear blending horridly in his voice and rendering shrill its pitch.
"Find me a way.

Come, knave, find me a way, or I'll have you broken on the wheel.

Set your wits to save that long, lean body from destruction.
Think, I bid you." He was moving restlessly as he spoke, swayed by the agitation of terror that possessed him like a devil.