That sinister hooligan, the Beadle, burst out laughing.
"Jealous? Me? Jealous of Ernestine? You make me laugh, you really do, old Beard!"
But Beard did not share his companion's mirth. He leaned against a palisade to take breath, while a little sheltered from the fierce onslaughts of the wind.
"I tell you what," he said in a gruff and threatening voice: "I don't like such dodges—like those of this evening...."
"Why so, monsieur?"
"Why, because, after all, it's a comrade!"
"But he's betrayed—a traitor he is!"
"What do we know about it?"
The Beadle nodded; reflected.
"What does anyone know about it?" he said at last....