“How long?”
“Six days.”
This answer seemed to please Tiburtsi.
“Aha, six days!” he said, turning me round so that I faced him. “Six days is a long time. And have you babbled to any one yet where you have been?”
“No, not to any one.”
“Is that true?”
“Not to any one.”
“Bene, that is excellent. The chances are that you will not henceforth babble. I always did think you were a decent little fellow from meeting you on the street. You’re a real little guttersnipe, even if you are a judge. Have you come here to try us, eh?”
He spoke kindly enough, but my feelings were deeply hurt, therefore I answered crossly:
“I’m not a judge. I’m Vasia.”