“That is true,” he admitted; and his face relaxed a little as he eyed the money. “But there is yet another difficulty.”
“And what is it?” I demanded.
“The other difficulty,” he answered, watching me keenly, “is that in giving you these provisions I may be succoring an enemy of the Nation.”
I threw myself back in my chair and burst into a roar of laughter. Looking back upon it, there is no moment of my life of which I am more proud than I am of that one.
“An enemy of the Nation!” I repeated, and then fell suddenly silent and affected to study him. “But how am I to know,” I asked at last, “that that description may not really be deserved by you? How am I to know that it is not some villainy against the Nation which you are plotting at that table yonder?”
He started, turned red, shifted under my gaze, and I saw that I had won.
“I swear to you, citizen,” he began; but I cut him short.
“And I also swear to you,” I retorted, “that I am on the Nation’s business, which brooks no delay. If you are a friend of the Nation, give me food; if you are its enemy, refuse it. The Nation knows how to punish, and its hand is heavy. Shall I write your name in my little book, and after it the word ‘suspect’? Come, prove yourself a good citizen, and at the same time get these pieces of silver for your pocket.”
He hesitated yet a moment, going from one foot to the other in perplexity; but the silver, or my arguments, or perhaps both together, carried the day.
“You shall have it,” he said, and went to the farther end of the room, where he opened a cupboard which was at the same time larder and wine-cellar. From it he produced two bottles, a fowl already roasted, and a loaf of bread. As he passed his two companions I fancied that a glance of understanding passed between them. A moment later they pushed back their chairs, bade him a noisy good-night, and left the room.