“Enough of that,” interrupted Louis angrily. “The day I relieved your pressing wants, and brought you to Paris, you promised to follow my directions, to help me carry out my plan; did you not?”
“Yes; but not the plot you are hatching now! You forget that my liberty, perhaps my life, is at stake. You may hold the cards, but I must have the right of advising you.”
It was midnight before the accomplices separated.
“I won’t stand idle,” said Louis. “I agree with you that something must be done at once. But I can’t decide what it shall be on the spur of the moment. Meet me here at this hour to-morrow night, and I will have some plan ready for you.”
“Very good. I will be here.”
“And remember, don’t be imprudent!”
“My costume ought to convince you that I am not anxious to be recognized by anyone. I left such an ingenious alibi, that I defy anybody to prove that I have been absent from my house at Vesinet. I even took the precaution to travel in a third-class car. Well, good-night. I am going to the inn.”
Raoul went off after these words, apparently unconscious of having aroused suspicion in the breast of his accomplice.
During his adventurous life, Clameran had transacted “business” with too many scamps not to know the precise amount of confidence to place in a man like Raoul.
The old adage, “Honor among thieves,” seldom holds good after the “stroke.” There is always a quarrel over the division of the spoils.