"I'm afraid to take any chances with you, my fine bird," said Gramont, rubbing his knuckles. "You're too clever by far, and too handy with your weapons!"
He obtained cloths, and firmly bound the ankles and wrists of Chacherre. Not content with this, he placed the man in the chair and tied him to it with merciless knots. As he was finishing his task, Chacherre opened his eyes and gazed rapidly around.
"Awake at last, are you?" said Gramont, genially. He got his pipe, filled and lighted it. The eyes of Chacherre were now fastened upon him venomously. "Too bad for you, Chacherre, that the coin fell heads up! That spelled action."
"Are you crazy?" muttered the other in French. Gramont laughed, and responded in the same tongue.
"It does look that way, doesn't it? You're slippery, but now you're caught."
Chacherre must have realized that he stood in danger. He checked a curse, and regarded Gramont with a steady coolness.
"Be careful!" he said, his voice deadly. "What do you mean by this?"
Gramont looked at him and puffed his pipe.
"The game's up, Ben," he observed. "I know all about the place down there—about the cars, and about the lottery. Your gang has had a pleasant time, eh? But now you and the others are going to do a little work for the state on the road gangs."
"Bah! Ça? va rivé dans semaine quatte zheudis!" spat Chacherre, contemptuously. "That will happen in the week of four Thursdays, you fool! So you know about things, eh? My master will soon shut your mouth!"