“Not thou, I’ll swear,” said Corund, looking evilly upon him and marking, as he thought, a twinkling light in Gro’s eyes. Gro shivered again, sipped his wine, and shifted his glance uneasily under that unfriendly stare.
Corund drank awhile in silence, then flushing suddenly a darker red, said, leaning heavily across the board at him, “Dost know why I said ‘not thou’?”
“’Twas scarce needful, to thy friend,” said Gro.
“I said it,” said Corund, “because I know thou didst look for another thing when thou didst skulk shamming here.”
“Another thing?”
“Sit not there like some prim-mouthed miss feigning an innocence all know well thou hast not,” said Corund, “or I’ll kill thee. Thou plottedst my death with the Demons. And because thyself hast no shred of honour in thy soul, thou hadst not the wit to perceive that their nobility would shrink from such a betrayal as thy hopes entertained.”
Gro said, “This is a jest I cannot laugh at; or else ’tis madman’s brabble.”
“Dissembling cur,” said Corund, “be sure that I hold him not less guilty that holds the ladder than him that mounts the wall. It was thy design they should smite us at unawares when we went up to them with this proposal thou didst urge on me so hotly.”
Gro made as if to rise. “Sit down!” said Corund. “Answer me; didst not thou egg on the poor snipe Philpritz to that attempt on Juss?”
“He told me on’t,” said Gro.