"I think he has gone to find his wife."
"His wife!"
Piquette sank into her chair, took out a cigarette and smoked rapidly for a moment. And then,
"What were you going to do with this—this twin brother?"
"I?" Pochard gave a gesture of abnegation. "Nothing. I am through. That is the affair of Monsieur 'Orton."
"All, mon ami, but you can't wriggle out so easily. You've received money—blood money——"
Pochard put his hands deep in his pockets and extended his long legs, frowning at the floor.
"I am sorry now. It is a bad business——"
"The man is safe?"
"So far, yes——"