he
statement that Joseph Justus left his laundress's bill at Louvain
unpaid, he alleges that I--I, Caesar Basterga of Padua--was broken on the
wheel at Munster a year ago for the murder of a gentleman!"

Grio turned a shade paler. "If this business miscarry," he said, "the
statement may prove within a year of the mark. Or nearer, at any rate,
than may please us."

Basterga smiled disdainfully. "Think it not!" he answered, extending his
arms and yawning with unaffected sincerity. "There was never scholar yet
died on the wheel."

"No?"

"No, friend, no. Nor will, unless it be Scioppius, and he is unworthy of
the name of scholar. No, we have our disease, and die of it, but it is
not that. Nevertheless," he continued with magnanimity, "I will not deny
that when Master Pert-Tongue downstairs put our names together so pat,
it scared me. It scared me. For how many chances were there against such
an accident? Or what room to think it an accident, when he spoke clearly
with the _animus pugnandi_? No, I'll not deny he touched me home."

Grio nodded grimly. "I would we were rid of him!" he growled. "The young
viper! I foresee danger from him."

"Possibly," Basterga replied. "Possibly. In that case measures must be
taken. But I hope there may be no necessity. And now, I expect Messer
Blondel in an hour, and have need, my friend, of thought and solitude
before he comes. Knock at my door at eight this evening and I may have
news for you."

"You don't think to resolve him to-night?" Grio muttered with a look of
incredulity.

"It may be. I do not know. In the meantime silence, and keep sober!"

"Ay, ay!"

"But it is more than ay, ay!" Basterga retorted with irritation; with
something of the temper, indeed, which he had betrayed at the beginning
of the interview. "Scholars die otherwise, but many a broken soldier has
come to the wheel! So do you have a care of it! If you do not----"

"I have said I will!" Grio cried sharply. "Enough scolding, master. I've
a notion you'll find your own task a little beyond your hand. See if I
am not right!" he added. And with this show of temper on his side, he
went out and shut the door loudly behind him.

Basterga stood a few moments in thought. At length,

"Dimidium facti, qui bene c[oe]pit, habet!"

he muttered. And shrugging his shoulders he looked about him, judging
with an artistic eye the effect which the room would have on a stranger.
Apparently he was not perfectly content