Ringing the bell, Milona appeared.
“Show these gentlemen out, Milo.”
Silently they left the house, preceded by the Dalmatian, who held a round lantern to light the way through the sinuous turnings of the path leading to the little ivy-covered door. This she opened, and then disappeared. They proceeded along the Avenue Maillot in silence, each occupied with his own thoughts. Suddenly Hans stopped, and said, in low accents—
“Sophia is tricking us. But things shall not happen as she imagines. I pretended to give way, the better to deceive her. Now this is what we will do. Cesare will send a letter in a disguised hand-writing to young Marcel Baradier, fixing a rendezvous at the Boulevard Maillot about ten o’clock at night. I shall be there to receive him, with others on whom I can rely, and I will undertake to introduce the pigeon into the dovecot. Once there, Sophia must be forced to employ her wiles, whether she will or not. It is the same plan I mentioned just now, and which she refused. The only difference is that I do not ask for her permission before putting it into practice.”
“But suppose Baradier does not come?” said Cesare.
“What? Not come? Can you imagine that he would not come to a rendezvous fixed by the Baroness? He will fly to it at once. And when we have him!”
“What will you do?” asked Lichtenbach, in quivering accents.
“That is my own business. Just trust to me to loosen this young man’s tongue!”
“Violence?”
“A mode of persuasion he cannot resist.”