He remained fidgeting by the door, his cap in his hand; and his face, had Claude marked it--but he had already turned a contemptuous shoulder on him--was a picture of doubt and indecision.

At length, "I've a message for you," he muttered nervously.

"From Messer Blondel the Syndic.

He wants to see you--now." Claude turned, and if he had not looked at the other before, he made up for it now.

"Oh!" he said at last, after a stare that bespoke both surprise and suspicion.