“You are a spy, sent here by a prying newspaper, and you are dangerous to our brotherhood. If you are not put out of the way, you may learn some of our secrets and reveal them to the world. All this you know very well.”
“My dear sir, you have made one of the biggest mistakes of your life. I am exactly what I have represented myself to be—a youth who is traveling for pleasure. If you give me a little time, I could prove all that I claim. I could prove that I am not connected with a newspaper, and never have been.”
“Bah! What about your card, which we found in one of your pockets?”
“That card was given me by a young man whom I met here in this city. It was the only one I had. If you had looked in my coat, which was torn from my back, it is pretty certain you would have found my cardcase, in which were my cards with my right name upon them.”
“A trick! It would not go. It is useless to talk.”
“But I happen to feel very much like talking just now, as it may be the last opportunity I will have in this world. If you would not interrupt me, I’d talk all night—really I would. Now, you know it is not polite to interrupt a gentleman who is speaking, and you Frenchmen are the embodiment of politeness, so I trust you will make no breach of decorum in my case. If I see that you are about to lay violent hands upon me, I shall begin to talk, and I shall keep right on as long as you will permit.”
Durant showed his teeth in a grin that was anything but pleasant.
“Very good,” he sneered. “Very funny. But this will stop your joking. It will sober you down very much.”
He produced his knife, a most wicked-looking instrument.
“I should say it might,” agreed Frank. “I am sorry I have offended you in any way, Monsieur Durant. Indeed, I think I am going to be very much cut up about it.”