He stepped from the pavement on to the street, to cross.
"Stop!" said Reitzei, seizing his arm with both hands.
Beratinsky shook him off violently, and turned. There might have been a blow; but Reitzei, who was a coward, shrunk back.
Beratinsky advanced.
"Look here, Reitzei," he said, in a low voice, "I think you are sober enough to understand this. You were throwing out vague threats about what you might do or might not do; that means that you think you could go and tell something about the proceedings of to-night: you are a fool!"
"Very well—very well."
"Perhaps you do not remember, for example, Clause I., the very first clause in the Obligations binding on Officers of the Second Degree; you do not remember that, perhaps?" He was now talking in a quietly contemptuous way; the little spasm of anger that had disturbed him when Reitzei put his hands on his arm had immediately passed away. "The
punishment for any one revealing, for any reason or purpose whatever, what has been done, or is about to be done by orders of the Council, or by any one acting under these orders—you remember the rest, my friend?—the punishment is death! My good Reitzei, do not deprive me of the pleasure of your companionship; and do not imagine that you can force people to be polite to you by threats; that is not the way at all. Go home and sleep away your anger; and do not imagine that you have any advantage in your position, or that you are less responsible for what has been done than any one."
"I am not so sure about that," said Reitzei, sullenly.
"In the morning you will be sure," said the other, compassionately, as if he were talking to a child.