"I don't think you are," René said, with grudging admiration. "Do you know how I got here? We lured Balmayne into a trap under the idea that he was going to meet Ghetti, and I frightened your address out of him. He betrayed you."
The outburst of rage and scorn that René expected was not forthcoming. She smiled.
"Not in the way you mean," she said. "Balmayne has fooled you to save his own skin. He knew I should make my story good and prove my innocence, or he would never have sent you to meet me tonight."
"He had no what you call alternative," René growled.
"Yes, he had. That man is far cleverer than you. You are a child to him in cunning with all your boasted brains. If you kill me tonight you commit a cold-blooded murder. But you are not going to do anything of the kind."
It began to dawn upon René that the speaker was right. But he had another weapon still up his sleeves. His vengeance was not boiling within him as it had been, the red light no longer danced before his eyes.
"Get me food," he said; "they starve you in those places yonder. I have tobacco, but my stomach craves for food. Go and get me food. I'll go and lock the area door so that you may not give way to a desire to take the air. After that you can find me something."