“Well?”
“That you took bribes from Bamborough and the English not to fight at Mivoie.”
Bertrand looked at the apple-boughs, and answered:
“That is a lie.”
The merest child could have seen that he was suffering, yet for De Bodegat there was an ungenerous gratification of the ego in prolonging the humiliation of a man who once worsted him in a duel.
“And yet, sir, you were with Croquart at Pontivy?”
“I have already answered that.”
“And you had battered the bearings from your shield.”
“Well, you have seen it.”
“So we may say that you loved the Fleming because of the blood-money that had been offered for his head.”