Paul nodded his head with approval.
"That is quite right," said Villebois, "but surely you will show me, your confrère, some mercy as well. If Pierre has time to escape no one will suffer, and we shall be effectually rid of him."
"Jamais de la vie," said Roux, his eyes flashing with indignation, and banging his fist on the table with such force that the contents of the inkpot were spilled. "I regret, my dear doctor," he added in a calmer voice, "I cannot oblige you, for I am determined that this unmitigated scoundrel shall be brought to justice, and I shall prepare my report at once and hand it without delay to the Commissaire de Police."
"And I mean to back you up, Roux," said Paul. "I swear I will not rest until this fiend is run to earth."
Paul shook hands with Villebois and Riche, and taking Roux by the arm, the two left the house without another word.
"Riche," said Villebois the moment they were alone, "this is a terrible business. I'm afraid it's all up with Pierre."
"Well, for my part, I hate the brute, and the sooner he gets his deserts the better. I should be only too happy to act the part of 'Monsieur de Paris' myself, and would not shed a tear when I saw his head fall into the basket."
Villebois heaved a sigh, and wiped his forehead with a silk handkerchief. "Perhaps they are right after all," he said to himself, "but then there is the old General to consider. It will kill him surely enough if his son is arrested on a charge of deliberate murder."
"Riche," he called out as a sudden idea struck him, "my nerves are so unstrung I feel I need a drop of cognac; will you share a liqueur with me?" and without waiting for a reply he rang the bell. "François," he said as the butler appeared, "bring a bottle of old liqueur brandy. No, you don't know where that special brand is, I will go." So saying, he followed François, closing the door behind him.
"François," he added in a hoarse whisper, "not a word, not a word of what I do, do you hear me?"