"Oh!" The exclamation fell from Blondel's lips before he could stay it. He saw what was coming, and the dilemma in which he was to be placed. "We have the letter before us," the First Syndic continued, "and apart from it, we know nothing for this person or against him." He looked round the table and met assenting glances. "I think, therefore, that it will be well, to leave it to Messer Blondel. He is responsible for the safety of the city, and it should be for him to say what is to be done." "Yes, yes," several voices agreed. "Leave it to Messer Blondel." "You assent to that, Messer Baudichon?" "I suppose so," the councillor muttered reluctantly. "Very good," said Fabri. "Then, Messer Blondel, it remains with you to say what is to be done." The Fourth Syndic hesitated, and with reason; had Baudichon, had the Inquisitor known the whole, they could hardly have placed him in a more awkward dilemma. If he took the course that prudence in his own interests dictated, and shielded Basterga, his action might lay him open to future criticism. If, on the other hand, he gave the word to expel or seize him, he broke at once and for ever with the man who held his last chance of life in the hollow of his hand. And yet, if he dared adopt the latter course, if he dared give the word to seize, there was a chance, and a good chance, that he would find the _remedium_ in the casket; for with a little arrangement Basterga might be arrested out of doors, or be allured to a particular place and there be set upon. But in that way lay risk; a risk that chilled the current of the Syndic's blood. There was the chance that the attempt might fail; the chance that Basterga might escape; the chance that he might have the _remedium_ about him--and destroy it; the chance that he might have hidden it. There were so many chances, in a word, that the Syndic's heart stood still as he enumerated them, and pictured the crash of his last hope of life. He could not face the risk. He could not. Though duty, though courage dictated the venture, craven fear--fear for the loss of the new-born hope that for a week had buoyed him up--carried it. Hurriedly at last, as if he feared that he might change his mind, he pronounced his decision. "I doubt the wisdom of touching him," he said. "To seize him if he be guilty proclaims our knowledge of the plot; it will be laid aside, and another, of which we may not be informed, will be hatched. But let him be watched, and it will be hard if with the knowledge we have we cannot do something more than frustrate his scheme." After an interval of silence, "Well," Fabri said, drawing a deep breath and looking round, "I believe you are right. What do you say, Messer Baudichon?" "Messer Blondel knows the man," Baudichon answered drily. "He is, therefore, the best judge." Blondel reddened. "I see you are determined to lay the responsibility on me," he cried.