"First, Monsieur de Vautrin," he said coolly, "you will send Madame Thibaud about her business——"
"Monsieur!" said the Duc with a show of dignity.
"Suit yourself. But she's in the way. This is no time for fooling. Does she go or doesn't she?"
De Vautrin's injured dignity trembled in the balance for a moment and then fell away, merged in his apprehension for the immediate future.
"That can—can doubtless be arranged," he said with a frown.
"Good," said Horton jovially. "And the sooner the better. It will clear the atmosphere amazingly. Then we will prepare to fight Monsieur Quinlevin with his own weapons."
"Yes. You—I—Piquette. That's what we came here for. You've made the mistake of under-rating Barry Quinlevin. He's desperate. He is playing a big game and if you don't want to be the goat you'll do what I advise."
"I'm listening."
"If I'm not mistaken he will reach here to-morrow afternoon with Madame Horton and Nora Burke. And you've got to see them."
"I—Monsieur?"