"Ah!" smiled the baron. "You see how I have protected myself against my own weakness. I must destroy you or be destroyed. I am forced, M. Coquenil, to end my friendly tolerance of your existence."
"I see," murmured M. Paul. "If I hadn't read that diary, your nerve would have been a little dulled for this—business." He motioned meaningly toward the shadows.
"That's it."
"Whereas now the thing has to be done and—you'll do it."
"Exactly! Exactly!" replied the baron with the pleasure one might show at a delicate compliment.
For some moments the two were silent, then M. Paul asked gravely: "How soon will the girl be here?"
"She's undoubtedly here now. She is waiting outside." He pointed to a heavily barred iron door.
"Does she know it was a trick, about the ring?"
"Not yet."
Again there was a silence. Coquenil hesitated before he said with an effort: "Do you think it's necessary to—to include her in this—affair?"