"But you are alone here, and unprotected. These men!"
The quick suspicions of a jealous nature flashed in his eyes.
"Believe me, they are less dangerous to our plans than women! Do you not trust me, Victor?" she said, with a dazzling smile.
He would have thrown himself at her feet, but she restrained him with an arch look at the wall, and a precautionary uplifted finger.
"Good; go now. Stay. This Gabriel—is he married?"
"No."
"Good-bye."
The door closed upon his dark, eager face, and he was gone. A moment later there was a sharp ringing of the bell of No. 92, the next room to that occupied by Mme. Devarges.
The truculent porter knocked at the door, and entered this room respectfully. There was no suspicion attached to the character of its occupant. He was well known as Mr. Jack Hamlin, a gambler.
"Why the devil did you keep me waiting?" said Jack, reaching from the bed, and wrathfully clutching his boot-jack.