But Siebel breaks in impatiently:
“Oh, skip the rubbish! Is there any body to bleed?”
“Is it a safe lay?” queries Nance.
“Yes, yes; it’s safe, of course,” cries Papa, thus compelled to come down to plain facts.
“Then let’s get down to business. Do you expect an angel’s visit here to-night?”
“Yes.”
“Well, what’s yer plan? Out with it: Nance and I are with ye, if ye divvy fair.”
Beckoning them to come closer, Papa Francoise leans across the table, and sinking his voice to a harsh whisper, unfolds the plan by which, without danger to themselves, they are to become richer.
It is a pretty plan but—“Man sows; a whirlwind reaps.”