The Sin That Was His

by Frank L. Packard

Raymond held the bills up before the man's face. “Feel the money, if you can't see it!” he suggested, with a short laugh. “That's what talks.”

“Bon Dieu!” ejaculated Bourget. “Yes, it is so! Well, who am I to drive? You? You are running away! Yes, Î understand! They are after you—eh? I am to drive you, eh?”

“No,” said Raymond. He drew the man close to him in the darkness, and placed his lips to Bourget's ear. “Henri Mentone.”

Bourget, startled, sprang back.

“What! Who!” he cried out loudly.

“I told you not to talk so loud!” snapped Raymond. “You heard what I said.”

Bourget twisted his head furtively about.

“No, 'cré nom—no!” he said huskily. “It is too much risk! If one were caught at that—eh? Bien non, merci!”

“There's no chance of your being caught”—Raymond's voice was smooth again. “It is only nine miles to St. Eustace—you will be back and in bed long before daylight. Who is to know anything about it?”

“Yes, and you!”—Bourget was still twisting his head about furtively. “What do I know about you? What have you to do with this?”