"If, M'seur?"
"Yes--if."
"And that 'if'--" Jean was straining against the table.
"It rests with you, Croisset. I will bargain with you. Either I shall take you back to the Wekusko, hand you over to the authorities and send a force after the others--or you shall take me to Meleese. Which shall it be?"
"And if I take you to Meleese, M'seur?"
Howland straightened, his voice trembling a little with excitement.
"If you take me to Meleese, and swear to do as I say, I shall bring no harm to you or your friends."
"And Meleese--" Jean's eyes darkened again, "You will not harm her, M'seur?"
"Harm her!" There was a laughing tremor in Howland's voice. "Good God, man, are you so blind that you can't see that I am doing this because of her? I tell you that I love her, and that I am willing to die in fighting for her. Until now I haven't had the chance. You and your friends have played a cowardly underhand game, Croisset. You have taken me from behind at every move, and now it's up to you to square yourself a little or there's going to be hell to pay. Understand? You take me to Meleese or there'll be a clean-up that will put you and the whole bunch out of business. Harm her--" Again Howland laughed, leaning his white face toward Jean. "Come, which shall it be, Croisset?"
A cold glitter, like the snap of sparks from striking steels, shot from the Frenchman's eyes. The grayish pallor went from his face. His teeth gleamed in the enigmatic smile that had half undone Howland in the fight.