"And so am I," thought the man with his ear to the little hole in the ceiling above. "And some day, my energetic friend, I'm going to pay you back for that bullet."
Count Paroff cleared his voice and laid his plans before his audience.
"To act frankly and in the open, to go boldly to the Hargreave home and proclaim myself Hargreave. I can disguise myself in a manner that will at least temporarily fool the butler."
"Who has been with his master for fourteen years, knows every move, habit, gesture, inflection," interposed Braine. "But proceed, count, proceed. You will remember the old adage; too many cooks."
"Ah," flashed back the count, "but a new cook?"
Olga touched Braine's arm warningly.
"You mean, then, that there has been talk in St. Petersburg of disposing of some one?"
"A good deal of talk, sir," haughtily, forgetting that he had bent humbly enough but a few moments gone.
"Very well; go on."
Thought the man at the peephole above: "There's another adage. When thieves fall out, then honest men get their dues. Yes, yes; proceed, proceed!"