late, say an hour before midnight and an hour
before dawn".

"Then let be it as you suggest. But see"--with returning asperity--"that
those rounds go, and at their hours. Let there be no remissness. I will
make a note," he continued, "of the hours fixed. An hour before midnight
and an hour before dawn".

He extended his arm and drew the ink-horn towards him. Midway in the
act, whether it was that his hand shook by reason of his illness, or
that he was in a hurry to close an interview which tried him more
severely than appeared, his sleeve caught the little phial of green
water that stood beside the soup on the table. It reeled an instant on
its edge, toppled on its side, and rolling, in one-tenth of the time it
takes to tell the tale, to the verge of the table--fell over.

Messer Blondel made a strange noise in his throat.

But the Captain had seen what was happening. Dexterously he caught the
bottle in his huge palm, and with an air of modest achievement was going
to set it on the table, when he saw that the Syndic had fallen back in
his chair, his face ghastly. Blandano was more used to death in the
field than in the house; and in a panic he took two steps towards the
door to call for help. Before he could take a third, Blondel gasped, and
made an uncertain movement with his hand, as if he would reassure him.

Blandano returned and leant over him. "You are ill, Messer Syndic," he
said anxiously. "Let me call some one."

The Syndic could not speak, but he pointed to the table. And when
Blandano, unable to make out what he wanted, and suspecting a stroke of
a mortal disease, turned again to the door, persisting in his intention
of getting aid, the Syndic found strength to seize his sleeve, and
almost instantly regained his speech. "There!" he gasped, "there! The
phial! Put it down!"

Captain Blandano placed it on the table, wondering much. "I was afraid
you were ill, Messer Blondel," he said.

"I was ill," the Syndic answered; and he pushed his chair back so that
no part of him was in contact with the table. He looked at the little
bottle with fascinated eyes, and slowly, as he looked, the colour
returned to his face. "I--was ill," he repeated, with a sigh that seemed
to relieve his breast. "I had a fright!"

"You thought it was broken?" Blandano said, wondering much, and looking
in his turn at the phial.

"Yes, I thought that it was broken. I am much obliged to you. Much, very
much obliged to you," the Synd