“Now， Earthman，” said the Prince， standing over it and holding his sword point very near the prisoner‘s neck， “speak， up， like an honest gnome， and you shall go free. Play the knave with us， and you are but a dead Earthman. Gooduddleglum， how can it speak while you hold its mouth ght shut？”
“No， and it can’t bite either，” said Puddleglum. “If I had he silly soft hands that you humans have （saving your ighness‘s reverence） I’d have been all over blood by now. et even a Marsh.wiggle gets tired of being chewed.” “Sirrah，” said the Prince to the gnome， “one bite and you ie. Let its mouth open， Puddleglum.”
“Oo.ee.ee，” squealed the Earthman， “let me go， let me go. isn‘t me. I didn’t do it.”
“Didn‘t do what？” asked Puddleglum.
“Whatever your Honours say I did do，” answered the reature.
“Tell me your name，” said the Prince， “and what you arthmen are all about today.”
“Oh please， your Honours， please， kind gentlemen，” himpered the gnome. “Promise you will not tell the ueen’s grace anything I say.”
“The Queen‘s grace， as you call her，” said the Prince ernly， “is dead. I killed her myself.”
