“What then?” demanded Peregrine, the pupils of his eyes narrowing. “Merely,” quoth the Count lightly, “that I wish to make you an apology.” “No need,” said Peregrine shortly. “Yet I did you an injury.” “Methinks I did you one,” said Peregrine, looking at the bound arm. “’Tis one will mend,” was the reply. Peregrine was silent. “Yet, perchance,” said the Count musing, “the injury I did you was not so great as at first sight might appear.” “I find it a benefit,” said Peregrine very dryly. “Ha!” “An’ a man pitch his tent on a vile bog believing it fair earth ’twere a benefit to drag him from it, even though the handling be somewhat rough.” “Oh!” said the Count amazed, opening his eyes wide, “you have seen that.” “I have seen more than that,” said Peregrine. “Yes?” queried the Count. “I have seen that you,” said Peregrine watching him, “acted as subtly prompted, if not fairly told.” The Count stroked his chin, half whimsical, half vexed. He was not wholly pleased to be named a tool in the matter, which he truly was. “I think you have seen a good deal,” quoth he ruefully. “Disillusionment clears a man’s eyesight,” said Peregrine shortly. “Humph!” remarked the Count. “Where fare you now?” he demanded. Peregrine shrugged his shoulders. “Where Chance leads. Mayhap to the Devil.” “An unpleasant fellow,” said the Count suavely, “and moreover no gentleman.” “Truly!” “A very usurer. Getting a man in his debt he demands constant interest, exceeding extortionate.” “An’ a man were wise he would return the whole loan and have done with the matter,” returned Peregrine carelessly. “No man has sufficient capital for that when he once takes loan from the Devil,” replied the Count half grimly. “You seem to have a very good knowledge of his dealings,” said Peregrine. Bonaventure shrugged his shoulders. “I have observed them more than once,” he said coolly. “An’ you have no better prospect in view than perchance to serve him, will you join company with me?” Peregrine shook his head. “No,” he said. “I am barely surprised,” returned the Count. “Yet I would ask you, unaccountable as it may seem to you, to come as my friend, not as my servant.” Peregrine laughed. “I put no trust in friends.” “That also does not surprise me,” said Bonaventure. “I put not vast trust neither, but take men as I find them.” “Then you will not find much,” retorted Peregrine. “I do not look for much.” “That shows you wise.” Bonaventure laughed. “Wisdom is what I seek. Perchance some day I shall find her. However since you will not seek her in my company I must e’en bid you farewell.” “Farewell,” said Peregrine. “We part on good terms?” “In no enmity as far as I am concerned,” said Peregrine carelessly. “Then again, farewell,” quoth the Count. Turning his horse he rode quickly after his men. Peregrine stood looking after him. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER XII