rs!" she said.

"In the box?"

"None."

He sprang to his feet. He shook his fist at her in low ignoble rage.
"You lie!" he cried. "You have not looked. You have played with me. You
have gone into the room and come out again, but you have not looked, you
have not dared to look."

"I have looked," she answered quietly. "In the box that is chained to
the wall. There are no papers in it. There is nothing in it except a
small phial."

"A phial?"

"Of some golden liquid."

"That is all?"

"All!"

Louis Gentilis stared at her, open-mouthed. Had the Syndic deceived him?
Or had some one deceived the Syndic?

CHAPTER XII.

THE CUP AND THE LIP.

Blondel could not hide the agitation he felt as he listened to his
unexpected visitors, and saw whither their errand tended. Fabri, who was
leader of the deputation of three who had come upon him without warning,
discerned this; much more Baudichon and Petitot, whose eyes were on the
watch for the least sign of weakness. And Blondel was conscious that
they saw it, and on that account strove the more to mask his feelings
under a show of decision. "I have little doubt that I shall have news
within the hour," he said. "Before night, I must have news." And nodding
with the air of a man who knew much which he could not impart, he leant
back in the old abbot's chair.

But Fabri had not come for that, nor was he to be satisfied with that;
and, after a pause, "Yes," he replied, "I know. That may be so. But you
see, Messer Blondel, this affair is not quite where it was yesterday, or
we should not have come to you to-day. The King of France--I am sure we
are much indebted to him--does not write on light occasions, and his
warning is explicit. From Paris, then, we get the same story as from
Turin. And this being so, and the King's tale agreeing with our
agent's----"

"He does not mention Basterga!" Blondel objected. He repented the moment
he had said it.

"By name, no. But he says----"

"Enough for any one with eyes!" Petitot exclaimed.

"He says," Fabri repeated, requesting the other by a gesture to be
silent, "that the Grand Duke's emissary is a Paduan expelled from Venice
or from Genoa. That is near enough. And I confess, were I in your place,
Messer Blondel----"

"With your responsibilities," Petitot muttered through closed teeth.

"I should want to know--more about him." This from Baudichon.

Fabri nodded assent. "I think so," he said. "I really think so. In