Pursuit of the Sun 1.2

-- I don't know anything, she took the poor souls from our house...
-- Should have known preachers aren't good at interrogations, -- the sheriff slams the scum's face into the table, drawing a knife with his other hand. A crunch of cartilage is heard, and the criminal's left ear separates from his body. -- Tell me where she went, filth. Next will be your nostrils, and then -- your balls, neither will be needed on the gallows.
-- Aaah! No, no, don't, -- the scum's composure vanishes faster than the morning mist, blood drenching the fingers he desperately presses over what's left of his ear. -- The map, give me the map!
Receiving the map, he jabs his finger at the same spot where Raoul had marked the lead obtained at the church. -- She lives there! 
-- Not there at all, I know that much, -- the knife touches the interrogated man's nose.
-- I swear by everything, she's there! I don't know anything else!
-- Seems she really is there, -- the sheriff flicks his knife, severing the nose from the face in one stroke. -- This is a lesson for the future, youngsters.
-- A bit much with the nose, -- Raoul mutters disapprovingly.