‘What’s the matter now?’ I said. ‘Is your ankle worse?’
‘And it’ll get worse, and worse and worse,’ Bruno solemnly assured him, ‘till oo gives up those apples!’
Apparently the thief was convinced of this at last, and he sulkily began emptying his pockets of the apples. The children watched from a little distance, Bruno dancing with delight at every fresh yell extracted from Nero’s terrified prisoner.
‘That’s all,’ the boy said at last.
‘It isn’t all!’ cried Bruno. ‘There’s three more in that pocket!’
Another hint from Sylvie to the Dog-King—another sharp yell from the thief, now convicted of lying also—and the remaining three apples were surrendered.
‘Let him go, please,’ Sylvie said in Doggee, and the lad limped away at a great pace, stooping now and then to rub the ailing ankle in fear, seemingly, that the ‘crahmp’ might attack it again.