“I have been over-cautious,” muttered he.
More than a quarter of an hour had elapsed, and Andre felt that he might leave his hiding-place, and go in quest of De Breulh; and as he approached the spot chosen for their meeting-place, he saw his friend’s carriage, and near it was the owner, smoking a cigar. The two men caught sight of each other almost at the same moment. De Breulh advanced to greet the young man with extended hand.
“I have been waiting for you for the last twenty minutes,” said he.
Andre commenced to apologize, but his friend checked him.
“Never mind,” returned he; “I know that you must have had some excellent reasons; but, to tell you the honest truth, I had become rather nervous about you.”
“Nervous! and why, pray?”
“Do you not recollect what I said the other evening? De Croisenois is a double-dyed scoundrel.”
Andre remained silent, and his friend, putting his arm affectionately through his, continued,—
“Let us walk,” said he; “it is better than sitting down in the café. I believe De Croisenois capable of anything. He had the prospect before him of a large fortune,—that of his brother George; but this he has already anticipated. A man in a position like this is not to be trifled with.”
“I do not fear him.”