"No, never. You will not dare. I forbid it."
"We'll see to that——"
The Duc, who at last seemed to have recovered his initiative, came forward with an air of alacrity.
"Perhaps, Monsieur Horton, it is just as well if you now unlock the door."
Horton looked at his wrist watch.
"Willingly. Oblige me, Monsieur." And he handed de Vautrin the key. "Unless there are some further matters Mr. Quinlevin wishes to discuss."
Jim's gaze met Moira's for the fraction of a second and brief as it was, he seemed to find a glimpse of that fool's paradise in which he had lived for a while. And then her glance turned from him to Quinlevin as she moved past Horton toward the door. Nora Burke, her stolidity shaken, her arrogant mien fallen amid the wreck of her probity, sent a fleeting glance over her shoulder toward the long mustaches of de Vautrin and stumbled after Moira.
But the Duc was in high feather again and fairly danced to the door.
"Will you give me your Paris address, that I may send you the money, Mr. Barry Quinlevin?" he shouted after him into the corridor.
There was no reply. Quinlevin's clever house of cards had toppled and fallen. But Horton followed down the corridor when they turned the corner and watched what happened. At the landing, the Irishman made a gesture and the two women went in the direction of their rooms, while Quinlevin passed down the stairs.