"True: I am thinking of those days when the Pack hunted the Lone Wolf in Paris, ran him to earth at last, and made him much the same offer as you have made to-night.... The Pack, you should know, messieurs, was the name assumed by an association of Parisian criminals, ambitious like you, who had grown envious of the Lone Wolf's success, and wished to persuade him to run with them."
"And what happened?" Phinuit enquired.
"Why it so happened that they chose the time when I had made up my mind to be good for the rest of my days. It was all most unfortunate."
"What answer did you give them, then?"
"As memory serves, I told them they could all go plumb to hell."
"So I hope history will not repeat, this time," Liane interjected.
"And did they go?" Monk asked.
"Presently, some of them, ultimately all; for some lingered a few years in French prisons, like that great Popinot, the father of monsieur who has caused us so much trouble."
"And you----?"
"Why," Lanyard laughed, "I have managed to keep out of jail, so I presume I must have kept my vow to be good."