‘Thanks!’ answered Fabricius, taking the cup with an unsteady hand. ‘Fill yourself also a draught,’ which invitation Cestus obeyed, nothing loth.
‘Here’s to the speedy restoration of your little maid,’ he said, and bottomed the cup. ‘Now, as you are satisfied that these trifles are really genuine, and that I am not deceiving you, I must ask you to write me that little document; after which, you shall know the whole story, which will contain certain items which will astonish you without doubt.’
Fabricius reached his writing materials and wrote, slowly and painfully, a brief undertaking, by which the personal safety of Cestus would be assured, and his efforts suitably rewarded, upon the satisfactory restoration of his grandchild.
Cestus perused the document, and, finding it satisfactory, put it away carefully in his breast.
‘Thanks! thanks! I value, and rely upon your word equally; but then I may fall into other hands, in which case this paper might be useful. I will commence and tell you from the beginning, and you may brace yourself up to hear something which will startle you.’
He poured out and drank some more wine, and then began his declaration.
‘Your little maid was stolen from your own porch, here on the Janiculum, fifteen years ago, all but three months and three days—if you have the day marked, consult it, and you will find I am right.’
Giving a start of surprise, Fabricius began to count with the fingers of one hand on the table, to assist a mental calculation.
‘You are right, without doubt,’ he said finally; ‘how come you to know this?’
‘None so well as I,’ returned the other, ‘you shall learn.’