As soon as he could recover his wits he cried out--

“Have thy wish, poor soul! an’ thou had poisoned a hundred men thou
shouldst not suffer so miserable a death.”

The prisoner bowed his face to the ground and burst into passionate
expressions of gratitude--ending with--

“If ever thou shouldst know misfortune--which God forefend!--may thy
goodness to me this day be remembered and requited!”

Tom turned to the Earl of Hertford, and said--

“My lord, is it believable that there was warrant for this man’s
ferocious doom?”

“It is the law, your Grace--for poisoners.