7
One eyebrow twitched upward on the old man's brow and he gestured toward my rocking chair. "Why don't you tell me about it," he replied, his voice kind and patient.
With a sigh, I sat down and grabbed up my mug. In between sips of hot chocolate, I related my encounter with Capano in the conference room and what I had learned about him from my research. As I reached the end of my tale, Bartleby blew out a long breath, billowing the whiskers of his mustache slightly.
"Well," he said, "I can't say I've heard of the two champions meeting so quickly before." He rubbed at his nose with his index finger for a moment, then mused, "It's almost as though he was looking for you specifically."
"I thought that same thing," I replied. "But that's not possible, is it?"
Bartleby cleared his throat.
