maintained courage, the lad's smirking face was enough to end all.

For a moment, such was the effect on him, Blondel could not speak. At
last, with an effort, "What is it?" he said. "What has happened?"

"Much," Louis replied glibly. "Last night, after you had gone, honoured
sir, I judged by this and that, that there was something afoot. And
being devoted to your interests, and seeking only to serve you----"

"The point! The point!" the Syndic ejaculated. "What has happened?"

"Treachery," the young man answered, mouthing his words with enjoyment;
it was for him a happy moment. "Black, wicked treachery!" with a glance
behind him. "The worst, sir, the worst, if I rightly apprehend the
matter."

"Curse you," Blondel cried, contrary to his custom, for he was no
swearer, "you will kill me, if you do not speak."

"But----"

"What has happened. What has happened, man!"

"I was going to tell you, honoured sir, that I watched her----"

"Anne? The girl?"

"Yes, and an hour before midnight she took that which you wished me to
get--the bottle. She went to Basterga's room, and----"

"Took it! Well? Well?" The Syndic's face, grey a moment before, was
dangerously suffused with blood. The cane that had inflicted the bruise
Louis still wore across his visage, quivered ominously. Public as the
bridge was, open to obloquy and remark as an assault must lay him,
Blondel was within an inch of striking the lad again. "Well? Well?" he
repeated. "Is that all you have to tell me?"

"Would it were!" Louis replied, raising his open hands with
sanctimonious fervour. "Alas, sir!"

"You watched her?"

"I watched her back to her room."

"Upstairs?"

"Yes, the room which she occupies with her mother. And kneeling and
listening, and seeing what I could for your sake," the knave continued,
not a feature evincing the shame he should have felt, "I saw her handle
the phial at a little table opposite the door, but hidden by a curtain
from the bed."

The Syndic's eyes conveyed the question his lips refused to frame. No
man, submitted to the torture, has ever suffered more than he was
suffering.

But Louis had as much mind to avenge himself as the bravest, if he could
do so safely; and he would not be hurried. "She held it to the light,"
he said, dwelling on every syllable, "and turned it this way and that,
and I could see bubbles as of gold----"

"Ah!"

"Whirling and leaping up and down in it as if they lived--God guard us
from t