I'll hold my tongue, but I will not--I dare not--help you." Andre-Louis looked a moment into that sullen, resolute face, and understood.

This man, living under the shadow of La Tour d'Azyr, dared exercise no will that might be in conflict with the will of his dread lord.
"Fresnel," he said, quietly, "if, as you say, the gallows claim me, the thing that has brought me to this extremity arises out of the shooting of Mabey.

Had not Mabey been murdered there would have been no need for me to have raised my voice as I have done.

Mabey was your friend, I think.

Will you for his sake lend me the little help I need to save my neck ?" The man kept his glance averted, and the cloud of sullenness deepened on his face.
"I would if I dared, but I dare not." Then, quite suddenly he became angry.