“It could easily be done, you know.”
“Fairly easily,” rejoined the other; “but there is the guard; it is numerous and strong in this building, and—”
“The gloom would help me; it is dark in the corridors, and a desperate man takes risks, remember—”
“Quite so! And you, citizen St. Just, are a desperate man just now.”
“My sister Marguerite is not here, citizen Chauvelin. You cannot barter my life for that of your enemy.”
“No! no! no!” rejoined Chauvelin blandly; “not for that of my enemy, I know, but—”
Armand caught at his words like a drowning man at a reed.
“For hers!” he exclaimed.
“For hers?” queried the other with obvious puzzlement.
“Mademoiselle Lange,” continued Armand with all the egoistic ardour of the lover who believes that the attention of the entire world is concentrated upon his beloved.