“Nothing, nothing!” groaned Lichtenbach. “What crimes are these you are laying to my account? That I desired the death of General de Trémont and am anxious to harm Baradier and Graff? You are wandering! It is sheer madness! Certainly they are my enemies, and have done me a great deal of harm. But, commit a crime on that account! Never, never! If they were to die, ah! I should consider it as a divine providence, but hasten their last moments by a single hour or minute, I, great God!”
“Of Abraham, of Jacob, and of Moses! Yes, my fine renegade! My good Lichtenbach!” said the Baroness, with a look of scorn. “Yes, you are quite ready to accept the favours of providence, incarnated under the features of the Baroness Grodsko, but you will not take the initiative yourself. Hypocrisy again! You ask for nothing, but you accept all! Well, your unuttered prayer shall be granted!”
“Baroness! In the name of God, do not compromise me. Do not proceed without instructions.”
“Ah, ah! How terrified you are. You remind me of old Trémont when I handled his chemical products after dessert. ‘Don’t touch that, it is deadly!’ he would say. Meanwhile, I tried to take in wax the impress of the lock of the iron casket, which Hans succeeded in opening, but which cost him his arm. And all for nothing. The box exploded, and destroyed the secret in the midst of the flames. But some one has this secret, and I must find it out. Whatever it cost I will obtain possession of it!”
“What have you been promised for it?”
She looked at him, with a laugh.
“You are very inquisitive! Don’t think I shall tell you, however. Professional pride apart—for, after all, one does not care to fail in a mission of this importance—the affair is worth all the trouble I am taking. Meanwhile, my hundred thousand francs!”
Lichtenbach opened a drawer, took out ten bundles of bank-notes, and held them out to the Baroness.
“Thanks. Now, Lichtenbach, what would you say if it were young Marcel Baradier who was the depository of old Trémont’s formulæ?”