"All right! Show him up when he does," he ordered briskly, taking off his coat and overcoat.
"Can I get you anything, monsieur?"
"A bottle of absinthe!" was the prompt reply.
"Yes, monsieur."
"And some cigarettes."
"Yes, monsieur." And, the guest adding nothing further to the order, he shuffled out and slowly closed the door. Laroque looked again at the card that he still held in his hand.
"I wonder what that old devil is up to now!" he murmured, thoughtfully. He had been wondering ever since he received the letter and the thousand francs. The woman did not hear him; or, if she did, paid no attention.
"This is better than the ship, anyhow, isn't it?" she remarked from the depths of the big armchair. Laroque was busily emptying his pockets on to the top of the dresser. As he took out the pistol he thought of Senor Silvas and smiled.
"Yes!" he declared emphatically, "I've had enough of the sea for a long time. You ought to be glad to be back again; you were certainly anxious to see 'la belle France,' weren't you?"
"I've been away from it for twenty—twenty years!" said the woman in a low voice.