together?"

Sergius Thord stood irresolute,--gazing at him, half in liking, half in
distrust.

"Sir," he said at last, "I do not know you--and you do not know me. If
I told you my name, you would probably not seek my company!"

"Will you tell it?" suggested the stranger cheerfully--"Mine is at
your service--Pasquin Leroy. I fear my fame as an author has not
reached your ears!"

Thord shook his head.

"No. I have never heard of you. And probably you have never heard of
me. My name is Sergius Thord."

"Sergius Thord!" echoed the stranger; "Now that is truly remarkable! It
is a happy coincidence that we should have met to-night. I have just
seen your name in this very paper which you caught me reading--see!--
the next heading under that concerning the King and the Jesuits--
'Thord's Rabble.' Are not you that same Thord?"

"I am!" said Thord proudly, his eyes shining as he took the paper and
perused quickly the few flashy lines which described the crowd outside
the Cathedral that afternoon, and set him down as a crazy Socialist,
and disturber of the peace, "And the 'rabble' as this scribbling fool
calls it, is the greater part of this city's population. The King may
intimidate his Court; but I, Sergius Thord, with my 'rabble' can
intimidate both Court and King!"