“When my brother comes down on me,” said Valentin, “he falls hard. I have a peculiar way of receiving him. I must say,” he continued, “that they came up to the mark much sooner than I expected. I don’t understand it, they must have had to turn the screw pretty tight. It’s a tribute to your millions.”
“Well, it’s the most precious one they have ever received,” said Newman.
He was turning away when Valentin stopped him, looking at him with a brilliant, softly-cynical glance. “I should like to know whether, within a few days, you have seen your venerable friend M. Nioche.”
“He was yesterday at my rooms,” Newman answered.
“What did he tell you?”
“Nothing particular.”
“You didn’t see the muzzle of a pistol sticking out of his pocket?”
“What are you driving at?” Newman demanded. “I thought he seemed rather cheerful for him.”
Valentin broke into a laugh. “I am delighted to hear it! I win my bet. Mademoiselle Noémie has thrown her cap over the mill, as we say. She has left the paternal domicile. She is launched! And M. Nioche is rather cheerful—for him! Don’t brandish your tomahawk at that rate; I have not seen her nor communicated with her since that day at the Louvre. Andromeda has found another Perseus than I. My information is exact; on such matters it always is. I suppose that now you will raise your protest.”
“My protest be hanged!” murmured Newman, disgustedly.