Too fine a steel may snap.

Too delicately fashioned an instrument may turn in the hand when suddenly pressed against the grain.
Mon held out his hand, knowing that there would be no verbal message.
From the mysterious folds of the friar's sleeves a letter instantly emerged.
"They have blundered.

The man is still living.

You had better come," it said; and that was all.
"And what do you know of this affair, my brother ?" asked Mon, holding the letter to the candle, and, when it was ignited, throwing it on to the cold ashes in the open fireplace, where it burnt.
"Little enough, Excellency.

One of the Fathers, praying at his window, heard the sound of a struggle in the street, and I was sent out to see what it signified.