M. Ferraud shook his head.
"Oh, well; this will be, your private affair. Captain Grasset will arrive from Nice to-morrow night. Two nights later we all should be on board and under way. Do you know, we have been very clever. Not a suspicion anywhere of what we are about."
"Do you recollect M. Ferraud?" inquired Breitmann.
"That little fool of a butterfly-hunter?" the duke asked.
M. Ferraud smiled and gazed laughingly up at the grill.
"He is no fool," abruptly. "He is a secret agent, and not one move have we made that is unknown to him."
"Impossible!"
M. Ferraud could not tell whether the consternation in Picard's voice was real or assumed. He chose to believe the latter.
"And why hasn't he shown his hand?"
"He is waiting for us to show ours. But don't worry," went on
Breitmann. "I have arranged to suppress him neatly."