The Syndic, alas for human nature, could have struck him in the face!
"You have it not?" he snarled. "You have it not?" And then regaining control of himself, "I suppose I ought," with a forced and ghastly smile, "to felicitate you on your escape."
"Rather to felicitate yourself," Basterga answered. "Or so I had hoped two days ago."
"Myself?"
"Yes," Basterga replied lightly. "For as soon as I found that I had no need of the remedium, I thought of you. That was natural. And it occurred to me—nay, calm yourself!"
"Quick! Quick!
"Nay, calm yourself, my dear Messer Blondel," Basterga repeated with outward solicitude and inward amusement. "Be calm, or you will do yourself an injury; you will indeed! In your state you should be prudent; you should govern yourself—one never knows. And besides, the thought, to which I refer—I see you recognise what it was——"
"Yes! yes! Go on! Go on!"
"Proved futile."
"Futile?"