“Have you found the paper?” the old man asked again.
“I must have dropped it as I came out of the dungeon, and the great door closed over it.”
“That is good,” said Manassa. “Then the vendetta is ended. A life for a life. Two Della Coscias for one Batistelli—for she is no longer a Batistelli.”
“Come, Manassa, you will bear witness that I gave her a chance for life.”
As Pascal turned to leave the Hall of Mirrors, to his surprise he was confronted by Cromillian. Pascal was filled with fury at the sight of him.
“What brings you here, robber, murderer?” he demanded.
Cromillian replied coolly: “Well, I don’t mind telling you I have come on a tour of investigation. You asked me a question and I have answered it. Now I will match yours with another. Where is Vandemar?”
Pascal dissembled: “I cannot be expected to know the whereabouts of all those who have been my guests.”
“Your guest!” said Cromillian, sneeringly. “I have my suspicions that he has been foully dealt with. He has not been seen since you and your host of ruffians that are called Death Brothers attacked him here in your own house. The world has been able to give us credit but for one thing—that is, the virtue of hospitality; that law has ever been held sacred by Corsicans, as you well know. You have basely violated it, and thereby brought dishonour and shame upon your countrymen. By all that is holy, when Cromillian brutalises his manhood to that extent, may the very heavens fall and crush him!”
Pascal drew his stiletto. “You murdered my brother, villain, and you dare preach to me!”