"Write," said Brother Hyacinth to his clerk, "Jew, name unknown, active
liar." This done, he continued his questions.

"Your means?"

"Alas, none," replied the Jew.

"Search him," said Brother Hyacinth.

The clerk thereupon turned out his pockets, which were empty of
everything but holes. Not content with that, however, he felt all over
his body, and when he had, as I may say, drawn all the coverts blank,
knelt down and pulled off the man's shoes. The Jew was unable to repress
an exclamation, which I naturally set down to his disgust at the
indignity. But I found that this was not so. The clerk very neatly
picked out a small key from between his toes and held it up to his
master.

"I thought as much," said Brother Hyacinth. "Go." The young Jew sighed,
shrugged, and stood back without a word; and while I was considering
what his imposture could have been it was my turn.

Brother Hyacinth examined me with keen displeasure. "Who are you?" he
asked me. I told him "Francesco-Antonio Strelli"--and he bade the clerk
write these names down. "Nationality?" he asked next. I told him
"Inglese." One of the friars, that evil, bearded fellow, I noticed, had
drawn near and was listening with all his might. Now it was to be
noticed of him that he breathed very short and fast, and that his breath
struck like fire upon my skin. The interrogatory was renewed.