"By all means. Is Mr. Mallow safe?"
"Safe and well. But what would you?" Rouge spread out his hands and shrugged. "He is in the power of Madame. She knows not mercy."
"Does she intend violence?" asked Aldean, hurriedly.
"But what can I say? As the votes go, so will Mr. Mallow be dealt with by the Brotherhood. Attention, Monsieur. Your friend is brave, but rash--oh, most terribly rash! He comes to Soho, and he tells Monsieur the doctor and Madame that he knows of their wickedness about this money, about this murder. Eh! they are afraid that he may tell too much, these brave ones, and they call out 'Spy! spy!' Mr. Mallow fights well, but he is conquered. Behold, Monsieur, your friend most dear is a prisoner in a little room on the top of the house in Soho."
"Have they ill-treated him?"
"But no; it is not necessary. Monsieur, your friend eats and drinks like one of the aristocrats. To-morrow night there is a great meeting of us in the cellar--oh, a very great meeting! Mr. Mallow will be taken down to be judged. All will be told; and if they say 'Kill!' Monsieur will disappear."
"You don't mean they will murder him!" cried Aldean, aghast.
"First, they will murder him," replied Rouge, significantly; "afterwards his body will disappear. We have chemists who do these things. Mr. Mallow will be no more."
"But the police?"
"Eh! what is it that can be done by them? No body, no murder, no trial. Madame and Monsieur the doctor they know well what to do. There is no one else who has seen Mr. Mallow enter--no one. Trall can speak, I can speak; but," with a shrug, "will he speak?"