“It will be your business to find out how and when the smugglers propose to get their next consignment over the frontier.”
“Exactly.”
“And to communicate any information you may have obtained to me.”
“And to keep an eye on the valuable cargo, of course?” I concluded.
“Yes,” he said roughly, “an eye. But hands off, understand, my good Ratichon, or there’ll be trouble.”
He did not wait to hear my indignant protest. He had risen to his feet, and had already turned to go. Now he stretched his great coarse hand out to me.
“All in good part, eh?”
I took his hand. He meant no harm, did old Leroux. He was just a common, vulgar fellow who did not know a gentleman when he saw one.
And we parted the best of friends.