"I wish to assure monsieur," said Emile, who displayed great control over his voice, but an extraordinary want of tact, "that it was only my great devotion to him that prevented me from informing the police this evening, and monsieur would have been arrested immediately. Now, if monsieur will make me a little present, just enough to make it worth my while——"
"What! you infernal devil," interrupted Pierre, his voice becoming husky with passion as he rose from the table and looked at Emile with eyes blazing with fury. "Do you mean to tell me that you require me to muzzle your mouth with gold in order to secure your silence?"
"Ah! monsieur, we have all got to live, and for a thousand francs—a mere trifle to monsieur—I close my eyes, and for another couple of thousand more I close my lips, and I will never tell the police, or even your father."
"You limb of satan, you hellish fiend. By God, I swear I'll tear your lying tongue out of your mouth, and break every bone in your damned body," cried Pierre, and seizing a champagne bottle he hurled it with all his force at Emile's head as the imp tried to escape from the room. Emile ducked, and the bottle just caught the top of his head, causing a deep gash, and knocking him down as if he had been pole-axed. The blood trickled down his face, and Pierre was afraid for the moment that he had killed him. Hurrying out of the room he fetched a pail of water and some towels, and tying one of them tightly over the wound he soon stopped the bleeding. In a few minutes he had mopped up all the blood, and removed every trace of it from the floor, and seeing that Emile was not seriously hurt, propped him up in a chair and rang the bell.
"Joseph," he said to his servant, as the latter stared at Emile propped up like a Chinese idol with a towel twisted into a turban round his head. "Don't be alarmed, my friend has had the misfortune to cut his head with a champagne bottle as he was opening it, he will soon be all right again. Kindly go and fetch a fiacre as soon as possible, and see that he is driven to his diggings. By the way, Joseph," he added, "I shan't want you this evening, so you may go out and amuse yourself if you like, and remember," he continued, in as calm a voice as he could command, "not a word about this to anyone. This accident was purely his own fault, and as you see, he is not badly hurt."
"Thank you, sir," said Joseph, as he felt relieved at seeing Emile beginning to wake up. "Have you any further orders, sir?"
"No, Joseph, no, that will do, only be quick and get this fellow out of the way. His presence is getting on my nerves," added Pierre, becoming excited again.
A fiacre was soon brought, and Emile was bundled in.
"Where shall I drive to?" asked the cocher.
"Oh! anywhere you please," said Pierre, who had assisted Joseph in getting him in, "only don't bring him back here."