"He uses it to--to torture women.

If I could tell you all--all, Messer Blondel," the young man continued, in growing excitement, "you would understand me better! He gains power over people, a strange power, and abuses it." "Power?
What do you mean?
What kind of power ?" "God knows." The Syndic stared a moment, his face expressive of contempt.

This was not the line he had meant his questions to take.

What did it matter to him how the man treated women?
Pshaw! Then suddenly a light--as of satisfaction, or discovery--gleamed in his eyes.

"Do you mean," he muttered, lowering his voice, "by sorcery ?" "God knows." "By evil arts ?" The young man shook his head.