“They are both as gallant gentlemen as any living.  About this cross, now—­”

“Oh, yes,” he answered at once, accepting with willingness—­well feigned, I thought—­the change of topic.  “You can give me ten pistoles, say you?  ’Tis making you a present of the treasure.  Yet, since I have received good treatment at the hands of your master, I will e’en give it to you.  You shall have your cross.”

With suspicions now at point of certainty, I drew out my pouch from under my pillow, and counted into his hand the ten pieces which were my store.  My rosary I drew out likewise; I had broken it when I shattered the cross, but one of the inn-maids had tied it together for me with a thread, and it served very well.  The Italian unhooked the delicate carving from the silver chain and hung it on my wooden one, which I threw over my neck, vastly pleased with my new possession.  Marcel’s Virgin was a botch compared with it.  I remembered that mademoiselle, who had given me half my wealth, the half that won me the rest, had bidden me buy something in the marts of Paris; and I told myself with pride that she could not fail to hold me high did she know how, passing by all vanities, I had spent my whole store for a holy image.  Few boys of my age would be capable of the like.  Certes, I had done piously, and should now take a further pious joy, my purchase safe on my neck, in thwarting the wiles of this serpent.  I would play with him awhile, tease and baffle him, before handing him over in triumph to Vigo.

Sure enough, he began as I had expected: 

“This M. de Mar down-stairs, he is a very good master, I suppose?”

“Yes,” I said, without enthusiasm.

“He has always treated you well?”

I bethought myself of the trick I had played successfully with the officer of the burgess guard.

“Why, yes, I suppose so.  I have only known him two days.”

“But you have known him well?  You have seen much of him?” he demanded with ill-concealed eagerness.

“But not so very much,” I made tepid answer.  “I have not been with him all the time of these two days.  I have seen really very little of him.”

“And you know not whether or no he be a good master?”

“Oh, pretty good.  So-so.”

He sprang forward to deal me a stinging box on the ear.

I was out of bed at one bound, scattering the trinkets in a golden rain and rushing for him.  He retreated before me.  It was to save his jewels, but I, fool that I was, thought it pure fear of me.  I dashed at him, all headlong confidence; the next I knew he had somehow twisted his foot between mine, and tripped me before I could grapple.  Never was wight more confounded to find himself on the floor.

I was starting up again unhurt when I saw something that made me to forget my purpose.  I sat still where I was, with dropped jaw and bulging eyes.  For his hair, that had been black, was golden.