“Is that your business—to go round the parish asking conundrums?” he said coolly. “I can’t guess the answer to that one, can you?”
Shangois hated cowards, and liked clever people—people who could answer him after his own fashion. Nearly everybody was afraid of his tongue and of him. He knew too much; which was a crime.
“I can find out,” he replied, showing his teeth a little.
“Then you’re not quite sure yourself, little devilkin?”
“The girl is a riddle. I am not the great reader of riddles.”
“I didn’t call you that. You’re only a common little imp.”
Shangois showed his teeth in a malicious smile.
“Why did you set me the riddle, then?” Ferrol continued, his eyes fixed with apparent carelessness on the other’s face.
“I thought she might have told you the answer.”
“I never asked her the puzzle. Have you?”