Rouge saw his momentary hesitancy, and smiled in that uncanny fashion of his, which often caused Mallow to think he was not quite right in his head.
"It is not too late, if Monsieur is afraid," said he, with a shrug and a sneer.
"Monsieur is not afraid," retorted Mallow sharply; "but Monsieur is wise enough to consider all things before committing himself past recall. When does the meeting take place?"
"On Wednesday next, Monsieur!"
"That is a week hence. Where?"
"In the cellar of the house in Poplar Street, Monsieur."
"In the cellar?" repeated Mallow, much surprised. "Will that be large enough?"
Rouge laughed. "Oh, Monsieur does not know all the holes in which we foxes hide. Holy Blue! it must not be that he know before he swears to be true, for he might speak to the police." The wretch's expression was feline as he whispered the last word. "But this cellar! it is a great one--c'est énorme! Madame had it made, Madame preferred it. If the police came! piff-paff! whirr! Houp-là!" he pointed upwards.
"I see! we dance on a volcano," said Laurence, uneasily. Rouge nodded. "We would all die; the best and the worst."
"Sacrifice your own lives?"