"I thought you were there," said his tormentor as cheerfully and triumphantly as if the other had admitted it. "You're not a good liar," he continued. "If a man can't do that sort of thing well, he'd better stick to the truth. At a little inn in Canterbury. Yes, I remember it all now. I'm glad my memory does not play me tricks." His grasp tightened on Wilfer's sleeve. "I don't like tricks," he purred. "How strange that we should meet again. I think at that time you were an artist; yes, that is what you called yourself, and there was a pretty little girl with you, and you called her your wife. Oh, yes, my friend, you were good at 'calling' things." "Look here," growled Wilfer, getting his word in at last. "You just stow it, I don't know you----" "No, I know you don't," said his companion imperturbably, "But you will; oh, yes, you will! Let us go back to Canterbury, where you manufactured such beautiful pictures." Wilfer moved uneasily. "Beautiful pictures," continued the mocking voice, "all by Rubens and Raphael and Titian. I shouldn't be surprised if that was one of yours I saw at the Countess of Merivale's to-day, the 'Portrait of a gentleman,' sold for 300 pounds. There was a warranty with it, signed, sealed and delivered by a Mr. Johann Wilfer." "I didn't, it wasn't," the man stuttered, his face almost green in hue, his voice trembling with anger and fear. Mr. Vermont smiled. He had his man safe and sound. "Who the fiend are you?" commenced Wilfer, recovering himself; but Vermont's smooth voice interrupted him. "I was right, I see! What a strange coincidence, Mr. Wilfer, that I should see your really admirable Rubens in the afternoon, and run against--or perhaps I should say, knock you down--in the evening." Mr. Wilfer was goaded to desperation. "Look here," he almost shouted, "I don't care if you're the old 'un himself; but that's enough of your jaw. What's your game anyhow? S'pose you did see me in a pub at Canterbury along of a young party, s'pose I am an artist, an' I did sell an old master, that ain't no business of yours; that don't give you the right to knock me down or interfere with me, so now then!" "Finished?" inquired Vermont, pleasantly. "I quite agree with you, Mr. Wilfer--on some points; but it is greatly my business, as you will see. Had I not come up at that moment, I wonder if my friend would be as safe as he is now." "Your friend," echoed the other. "Is Mr. Adrien Leroy your friend?" "He is indeed," replied Jasper with a grin. "Now suppose you tell me what you two gentleman were discussing." "Suppose I don't?" retorted Wilfer insolently. "You find out for yourself, if you're so clever, Mr. Know-all; I'm off." He tried to push past Vermont and thus effect his escape; but he was not to get off so lightly. Jasper removed his cigar, which he had been puffing, and dropping his soft, mocking tone, said sternly: "Stand back; go and sit on that bench. I haven't done with you yet, Johann Wilfer."