After a polite salutation, Messire Van Schoonhoven said: 

“I am happy to meet you.  I was on my way to your house.”

“To my house?” said Turchi.  “Have you news of my friend?”

“No, signor; I wish to see you concerning an affair which, although not serious, necessitates a conversation with you.  I would have spoken to you on this subject this evening when at Mr. Van de Werve’s, but the place was inappropriate to such discussions.”

“Return then with me,” stammered Turchi, with ill-disguised anxiety.

“Where were you going, signor?” said the bailiff.

“I was going to take a walk along the Scheldt, in order to seek some diversion to the grief I feel for the disappearance of the unfortunate Geronimo.”

“What I have to say, signor, need not interfere with your walk.  I will accompany you a part of the way and enjoy with you the evening breeze.”

The bailiff turned and walked by Turchi’s side.

Looking around, to assure himself that they were not overheard, Messire Van Schoonhoven said: 

“The affair in question would not require so many precautions were I not bailiff and you my friend.  But in consequence of these two reasons, my mission becomes painful, and I must claim in advance your forbearance.  You know that my agents are searching every house, building, and garden in the vicinity of the Hospital Grounds where Geronimo was last seen.  The greatest part of this quarter has been carefully examined without any result.”

Simon Turchi perfectly understood the bailiff’s design, and although his heart beat painfully, he mastered his emotion, and said in an indifferent tone: 

“And you think, Messire Van Schoonhoven, that my garden should be searched in like manner?  It is very natural.  No one is above the law—­the knight and the peasant are there equal.”

“Believe me, signor, that the thought of so disrespectful a conduct towards an honorable nobleman, and that nobleman my friend for years, would never have occurred to me.  But the search became a necessity without any fault of mine.  The presence of at least twenty of my agents in that quarter attracted the curious.  A crowd followed those engaged in the search, and when it was noticed that your summer-house was the only one exempted, the magistrates were openly accused of injustice.  The people were told that this was done by my order; but so great was the commotion that the affair reached the ears of the burgomaster and the constables, and these gentlemen waited on me, urging me to visit your garden likewise, so as to remove all cause of complaint.”

“This explanation is wholly unnecessary, at least as far as regards myself,” interrupted Simon Turchi.  “I desire you to search my country-house as you do all the other dwellings in the vicinity.”

They were not far from the bridge of Meir, and they ceased speaking, as in so frequented a place they were in danger of being overheard.  Farther on, Turchi said: