“It is a sacred trust,” said Jacques Collin very seriously.
“And nothing to the pals?”
“Nothing! They blowed the gaff for me,” answered la Pouraille vindictively.
“Who did? Shall I serve ‘em out?” asked Jacques Collin eagerly, trying to rouse the last sentiment that survives in these souls till the last hour. “Who knows, old pal, but I might at the same time do them a bad turn and serve you with the public prosecutor?”
The murderer looked at his boss with amazed satisfaction.
“At this moment,” the boss replied to this expressive look, “I am playing the game only for Theodore. When this farce is played out, old boy, I might do wonders for a chum—for you are a chum of mine.”
“If I see that you really can put off the engagement for that poor little Theodore, I will do anything you choose—there!”
“But the trick is done. I am sure to save his head. If you want to get out of the scrape, you see, la Pouraille, you must be ready to do a good turn—we can do nothing single-handed——”
“That’s true,” said the felon.
His confidence was so strong, and his faith in the boss so fanatical, that he no longer hesitated. La Pouraille revealed the names of his accomplices, a secret hitherto well kept. This was all Jacques needed to know.