"I fear something untoward has happened.

What is it ?" And he put himself more decidedly between them.
"He has ruined us!" "Not that, I hope ?" "Ruined us! Ruined us!" Blondel panted, his rage almost choking him.

"He had it in his hands and let it go.

He let it go!" "That which you----" "That which I"-- a pause--"commissioned him to get." "But you did not! Oh, worshipful gentlemen," Gentilis wailed, turning to them, "indeed, he did not tell me to bring aught but papers! I swear he did not." "Whatever was there, I said! Whatever was there!" the Syndic screamed.
"No, worshipful sir!" amid a storm of sobs.

"No, no! Indeed no! And how was I to know?
There was naught but that in the box, and who would think treason lay in a----" "Mischief lay in it!" "In a bottle!" "And treason," Blondel thundered, drowning his last word, "for aught you knew! Who are you to judge where treason lies, or may lie?
Oh, pig, dog, fool," he continued, carried away by a fresh paroxysm of rage, at the thought that he had had it in his grasp and let it go! "If I could score your back!" And he brandished his cane.
"You have scored his face pretty fairly," Baudichon muttered.