"Will you do me a favor in memory of Arles—I have really visited that renowned city—monsieur?"
"Gladly."
"Get word sometime to Peter Corlaer that I fooled you, and 'twas no fault of mine I was taken."
He clapped me on the back.
"That's the spirit, mon brave! I'll do it without fail. And my advice to you is to pick the first chance to die, no matter how it may be. These Keepers—peste! They are a bad lot. They are artists in torment. 'Tis part of their religion, which I will say they still practise, even though Père Hyacinthe were to excommunicate me."
"Better not let the worthy priest hear you," admonished de Veulle with his mocking smile. "Have you finished your homily and last word to the condemned?"
"I have finished my last word to you," snarled Joncaire.
"Perhaps, monsieur," I said, "you have never chanced to hear of a certain duel with small-swords in the ——"
De Veulle struck me with all his strength across the mouth.
"Here," he called to the waiting Cahnuagas, "bind him—and make a sure job of it. Be not careful of his comfort."