“Come,” he said. “Let us go back into the more frequented streets. This back way was not a success—only proves that it never does to turn tail.”
“How did you know,” asked Cartoner, “that this was coming off?”
“Quite simple, my friend. I was at the window when you arrived at the Europe. You were followed. Or, at all events, I thought you were followed. So I made up my mind to walk back with you and see. Veni, vidi, vici—you understand?”
And again his clear laugh broke the silence of that back street, while he made a pass at an imaginary foe with his stick.
“I thought we might escape by the quieter streets,” he went on. “For it is our business to seek peace and ensure it. But it was not to be. Neither could I warn you, because we have never interfered in each other's business, you and I. That is why we have continued, through many chances and changes, to be friends.”
They walked on in silence for a few moments. Then Cartoner spoke, saying that which he was bound to say in his half-audible voice.
“It was like you, to come like that and take the risk,” he said, “and say nothing.”
But Deulin stopped him with a quick touch on his arm.
“As to that,” he said, “silence, my friend. Wait. Thank me, if you will, five years hence—ten years hence—when the time comes. I will tell you then why I did it.”
“There can only be one reason why you did it,” muttered the Englishman.