"Very good wine indeed," exclaimed the General, "but it is no use your trying to get round me in that way to pardon your burgesses, for I can no more turn from my word than you can empty this goodly flagon at a draught." "Is the case indeed so hopeless?" said the priest. "Yes, indeed," said the Count rising, "Drink me the contents of this flagon at a draught, and your citizens are free; else at noon they swing," and with a mocking smile on his lips he was about to stride out of the room, when the priest arrested his steps with, "One moment, good Count, and I will e'en essay the task." Then, taking up the flagon, which held _thirteen pints_, he emptied it to the very dregs, and fell back into his townsmen's arms. Tilly was as good as his word, and released his captives. "Whew!" whistled Alec; "where's the salt box? Thirteen pints at a draught--thirteen pints! Why, your old priest would make a good second to our maire's cat!" "What did his cat do?" queried I, innocently. "Oh, I thought everyone had heard of Curat's cat," premised Alec. "You must know that his cat was growing old and spiteful, so he determined to kill it; but although he tried various means, and got very near accomplishing his end on several occasions the cat would always appear again to trouble him. One evening, as a final effort in assassination, before retiring to bed, he tied a heavy piece of iron round the cat's neck, and dropped it into a water-butt which stood in his garden. Next morning he was down betimes, and standing on the tiptoe both of expectation and of his boots, he peeped over the edge of the tub, when lo! there, on the bottom of the butt sat the cat looking up at him with tears in her eyes, for she was too heavily anchored to climb out." But I broke in, "Where was the water?" "Well, you see," said Alec, "being her only means of escape, _she had swallowed it_, as your priest did the wine, which accounted for her swollen condition. So now, Mr. Thirteen Pints, I think we are about quits." We were; Alec scored a point. [Illustration: Decorative scroll] [Illustration: Decorative chapter heading] CHAPTER XVII. THE WILL AGAIN--SEARCHING FOR A CLUE TO THE PAPER--BARBE ROUGE'S WILL--A PROBABLE CLUE--HOPES AND DOUBTS--PERPLEXED--A MEMORABLE TRAWL BY MOONLIGHT--A REAL CLUE AT LAST--THE PLACE OF THE SKULL FOUND. As soon as I was able I went out walking each day, and so rapid was my convalescence that in ten days I was quite myself again. Alec had during my enforced idleness been extra busy, and had made both house and garden look very trim. He had not been able to go far away, for fear I might want him, and thus had spent his time near home.