'A perfect heathen.

If we could only find the weapon!' But the weapon had ceased to exist.

A little resined twine was perhaps blowing about in the castle gutters; some bits of broken stick may have trailed in corners; and behold, in the pleasant air of the morning, a dandy prisoner trimming his nails with a pair of scissors! Finding the wounded man so firm, you may be sure the authorities did not leave the rest of us in peace.

No stone was left unturned.

We were had in again and again to be examined, now singly, now in twos and threes.
We were threatened with all sorts of impossible severities and tempted with all manner of improbable rewards.