"They could arrest you while you are walking to the Arc de Triomphe, after leaving the house."
"That is true; but what would they gain. They would not get the boy, would they? And they have no evidence to show that I stole him. Further, François reports this morning that he overheard Stapleton and his wife talking. There is to be no interference—at least not until I get away in the machine. They will follow me, of course. I fully expect it. But you know the steps I have taken to take care of that game." He laughed grimly. "No—no—the thing is absolutely safe. We will get away without the least trouble."
"Nevertheless, if anything goes wrong, and I do not get the red signal, what shall we do then?"
"We'll talk that over, when the time comes. You meet me at Martelle's."
"But suppose you can't be there? They might get you, you know."
The man with the beard frowned darkly, and an evil expression came over his face. "If you get the red signal, and I do not meet you at Martelle's at half past eight, come back here, get the boy, and take him to Lavillac. And before you do so, cut off his left hand, and send it to Stapleton with a letter telling him that if I am not set free at once, you will send his head. That will bring them to terms."
Grace shuddered as she heard the man's words.
His companion nodded. "I understand," he said. "But I hope it won't be necessary."
"It won't. They can't get me. I've planned too carefully. That American detective, Duvall, is a joke. He was out on the Boulevard du Bois de Boulogne this morning with one of the Prefect's men. They are figuring to have an automobile at the Avenue Malakoff and follow me." He laughed loudly. "Much good that will do them!"
"How about François?"