‘Bravo!’ says Paris. ‘We should get out—and quickly! By the chimney, sir? There is no chimney. By the window? There is but one death for every man, and one neck to be broke.’
‘You will break no necks at all, you fool. Below these windows is the lions’ house.’
Paris thought. ‘Are you sure of that?’
‘Sure! Oh, Paris, make haste!’
Again Paris appeared to reflect; and then he said, ‘If you are betraying a countryman of yours, M. Des-Essars, and your old patron also, you shall never see God.’
Des-Essars wrung his hands. ‘You fool! you fool! Are you mad? Call my lord.’
‘Wait,’ said Paris. In a short time, the sound of heavy steps. Ah, here was my lord!
‘’Tis yourself, Baptist?’
‘Yes, yes, my lord.’
‘Have they finished with Davy?’