How he hated the man! How gladly would he have laid him dead at his feet! For if the fool stayed here prating, if he were found here by those who within a few moments would come with the alarm, he was himself a lost man.

All would be known.
That was the fear in Blondel's mind; the alarm was growing louder each moment, and drawing nearer.

And then in a twinkling, in two or three sentences, Basterga put that fear into the second place, and set in its seat emotions that brooked no rival.
"Why not both ?" he said, jeering.

"Live and be Syndic, both?
Because you had the scholar's ill, eh, Messer Blondel?
Or because your physician _said_ you had it--to whom I paid a good price--for the advice ?" The devil seemed to look out of the man's eyes, as he spoke in short sentences, each pointed, each conveying a heart-stab to its hearer.
"To whom--you gave ?" Blondel muttered, his eyes dilated.
"A good price--for the advice! A good price to tell you, you had it." The magistrate's face swelled till it was almost purple, his hands gripped the front of his coat, and pressed hard against his breast.
"But--the pains ?" he muttered.

"Did you--but no," with a frightful grimace, "you lie! you lie!" "Did I bribe him--to give you those too ?" the other answered, with a ruthless laugh.