"But name of a dog! how is it to be done?" ejaculated Martin-Roget, and he brought his clenched fist crashing down upon the table. "The woman will not follow me—or Louise either—anywhere willingly."
"She must follow a stranger then—or one whom she thinks a stranger—some one who will have gained her confidence...."
"Impossible."
"Oh! nothing is impossible, citizen," rejoined Chauvelin blandly.
"Do you know a way then?" queried the other with a sneer.
"I think I do. If you will trust me that is——"
"I don't know that I do. Your mind is so intent on those English adventurers, you are like as not to let the aristos slip through your fingers."
"Well, citizen," retorted Chauvelin imperturbably, "will you take the risk of conveying the fair Yvonne to the Rat Mort by twelve o'clock to-night? I have very many things to see to, I confess that I should be glad if you will ease me from that responsibility."
"I have already told you that I see no way," retorted Martin-Roget with a snarl.
"Then why not let me act?"