“No,” replied Rouletabille sharply.
I kept silence for awhile, then, anxious to know his thoughts, I asked him point blank:
“Why not tell Arthur Rance?—He may be of great assistance to us?”
“Oh!” said Rouletabille crossly, “then you want to let everybody into Mademoiselle Stangerson’s secrets?—Come, let us go to dinner; it is time. This evening we dine in Frédéric Larsan’s room,—at least, if he is not on the heels of Darzac. He sticks to him like a leech. But, anyhow, if he is not there now, I am quite sure he will be, to-night! He ’s the one I am going to knock over!”
At this moment we heard a noise in the room near us.
“It must be he,” said Rouletabille.
“I forgot to ask you,” I said, “if we are to make any allusion to to-night’s business when we are with this policeman. I take it we are not. Is that so?”
“Evidently. We are going to operate alone, on our own personal account.”
“So that all the glory will be ours?”
Rouletabille laughed.