“You couldn’t by any possibility,” I said deliberately, with as much satire as I could command, “you couldn’t possibly mean that any sum of mere money might be a salve for the injuries my unkind words have inflicted?”

Once more he seemed upon the point of destroying me physically, but, with a slight shudder, controlled himself.  Stepping close to me, he thrust his head forward and measured the emphases of his speech by his right forefinger upon my shoulder, as he said: 

“You paint this in yer pitchers, m’ dear friend; they’s jest as much law in this country as they is on the corner o’ Twenty-thoid Street an’ Fif’ Avenoo!  You keep out the way of it, or you’ll git runned over!”

Delivering a final tap on my shoulder as a last warning, he wheeled deftly upon his heel, addressed Miss Elliott briefly, “Glad t’ know you, lady,” and striking into the by-path by which he had approached us, was soon lost to sight.

The girl faced me excitedly.  “What is it?” she cried.  “It seemed to me you insulted him deliberately—­”

“I did.”

“You wanted to make him angry?”

“Yes.”

“Oh!  I thought so!” she exclaimed breathlessly.  “I knew there was something serious underneath.  It’s about Mr. Saffren?”

“It is serious indeed, I fear,” I said, and turning to my own easel, began to get my traps together.  “I’ll tell you the little I know, because I want you to tell Mrs. Harman what has just happened, and you’ll be able to do it better if you understand what is understandable about the rest of it.”

“You mean you wouldn’t tell me so that I could understand for myself?” There was a note of genuine grieved reproach in her voice.  “Ah, then I’ve made you think me altogether a hare-brain!”

“I haven’t time to tell you what I think of you,” I said brusquely, and, strangely enough, it seemed to please her.  But I paid little attention to that, continuing quickly:  “When Professor Keredec and Mr. Saffren came to Les Trois Pigeons, they were so careful to keep out of everybody’s sight that one might have suspected that they were in hiding—­and, in fact, I’m sure that they were—­though, as time passed and nothing alarming happened, they’ve felt reassured and allowed themselves more liberty.  It struck me that Keredec at first dreaded that they might be traced to the inn, and I’m afraid his fear was justified, for one night, before I came to know them, I met Mr.  ‘Percy’ on the road; he’d visited Madame Brossard’s and pumped Amedee dry, but clumsily tried to pretend to me that he had not been there at all.  At the time, I did not connect him even remotely with Professor Keredec’s anxieties.  I imagined he might have an eye to the spoons; but it’s as ridiculous to think him a burglar as it would be to take him for a detective.  What he is, or what he has to do with Mr. Saffren, I can guess no more than I can guess the cause of Keredec’s