"What will they do to him?"
"He'll be imprisoned for life," was the reply "and I rather think that's a little worse than the guillotine. You say you worry for Jean—I'm rather sorry for old man Briggerland. If he hadn't tried to live up to his daughter he might have been a most respectable member of society."
They were strolling through the quaint, narrow streets of Grasse, and Jack, who knew and loved the town, was showing her sights which made her forget that the Perfumerie Factory, the Mecca of the average tourist, had any existence.
"I suppose I'll have to settle down now," she said with an expression of distaste.
"I suppose you will," said Jack, "and you'll have to settle up, too; your legal expenses are something fierce."
"Why do you say that?" she asked, stopping in her walk and looking at him gravely.
"I am speaking as your mercenary lawyer," said Jack.
"You are trying to put your service on another level," she corrected. "I owe everything I have to you. My fortune is the least of these. I owe you my life three times over."
"Four," he corrected, "and to Marcus Stepney once."
"Why have you done so much for me? Were you interested?" she asked after a pause.