"That is a lie!" the new comer replied, with a snort of triumph,
"and an impudent one. But you have got the wrong sow by the ear
this time."
"Why, man," a third voice, somewhat nasal and rustical, struck
in, "don't you know the Mayor of Bottitort?"
"I should," my Breton answered bluntly, and making, as we
guessed, a stand before them. "For I am his servant, and he is
this moment at his meat."
"The Mayor of Bottitort?"
"Yes."
"M. Grabot?"
"Yes."
"And you are his servant?"
"I have thought so for some time," the Breton answered
contemptuously.
The Mayor fairly roared in his indignation. "You--his servant!
The Mayor of Bottitort's?" he cried in a voice of thunder.
"I'll tell you what you are; you are a liar!--a liar, man, that
is what you are! Why, you fool, I am the Mayor of Bottitort
myself. Now, do you see how you have wasted yourself? Out of my
way! Jehan, follow me in. I shall look into this. There is
some knavery here, but if Simon Grabot cannot get to the bottom
of it the Mayor of Bottitort will.
Pages:
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98