Lagardere shook his head and repeated his command: "No. Go in at once. Wait in your room until I come for you."
Æsop looked at him with raised eyebrows and a wicked grin. "Why banish the lady? She might find my tale entertaining."
At an imperative signal from Lagardere, Gabrielle entered the Inn. Lagardere then advanced towards Æsop, who watched him with folded arms and his familiar malevolent smile. When they were quite close, Æsop greeted Lagardere:
"So the rat has come to the trap at last. Lagardere in Paris—ha, ha!"
Lagardere looked at him ponderingly. "The thought amuses you."
Æsop’s grin deepened. "Very much. Before nightfall you will be in prison."
Lagardere seemed to deny him. "I think not. You carry a sword and can use it. You shall fight for your life, like your fellow-assassins."
Æsop looked about him. "I have but to raise my voice. There must be people within call even in this sleepy neighborhood."
Lagardere still smiled, and the smile was still provocative. "But if you raise your voice I shall be reluctantly compelled to stab you where you stand. Ah, coward, can you only fight in the dark when you are nine to one?"
Æsop gave his hilt a hitch. "You will serve my master’s turn as well dead as alive. I wear the best sword in the world, and it longs for your life."