16

"There you are," Jaundyce says, eyes narrowing. There is a bilious unsteadiness to his movements and, you note, a spatter of wine across his shirt. "There you are, Fontybelle…."

He advances. The crowd shuffles away from you; you take a step back as well, hands raised.

"Sir, my name is not Fontybelle."

Jaundyce spits on the ground and continues to advance.

"You are the man Fontybelle," he says.