ow with his friend the Syndic!"

"The Syndic?"

"The Syndic Blondel!"

The moment the words had passed his lips, Claude repented. He saw that
he had struck a note more serious than he intended. The big man did not
move, but over his fat face crept a watching expression; he was plainly
startled. His eyes, reduced almost to pin-points, seemed for an instant
the eyes of a cat about to spring. The effect was so evident indeed that
it bewildered Claude and so completely diverted his attention from Grio,
the real target, that when the bully, who had listened stupidly to the
exchange of wit, proved by a brutal oath his comprehension of the
reference to himself, the young man scarcely heard him.

"The Syndic Blondel?" Basterga muttered after a pregnant pause. "What
know you of him, pray?"

Before the young man could answer, Grio broke in. "So you have followed
me here, have you?" he cried, striking his jug on the table and glaring
across the board at the offender. "You weren't content to escape last
night it seems. Now----"

"Enough!" Basterga muttered, the keen expression of his face unchanged.
"Softly! Softly! Where are we? I don't understand. What is this? Last
night----"

"I want not to rake up bygones if you will let them be," Claude answered
with a sulky air, half assumed. "It was you who attacked me."

"You puppy!" Grio roared. "Do you think----"

"Enough!" Basterga said again: and his eyes leaving the young man fixed
themselves on his companion. "I begin to understand," he murmured, his
voice low, but not the less menacing for that, or for the cat-like purr
in it. "I begin to comprehend. This is one of your tricks, Messer Grio.
One of the clever tricks you play in your cups! Some day you'll do that
in them will--No!" repressing the bully as he attempted to rise. "Have
done now and let us understand. The 'Bible and Hand,' eh? 'Twas there, I
suppose, you and this youth met, and----"

"Quarrelled," said Claude sullenly. "That's all."

"And you followed him hither?"

"No, I did not."

"No? Then how come you here?" Basterga asked, his eyes still watchful.
"In this house, I mean? 'Tis not easy to find."

"My father lodged here," Claude vouchsafed. And he shrugged his
shoulders, thinking that with that the matter was clear.

But Basterga continued to eye him with something that was not far
removed from suspicion. "Oh," he said. "That is it, is it? Your father
lodged here. And the Syndic--Blondel, was it you