He crawled, hidden by the long grass, towards the hut. Forty feet away from him Jodot and William were talking. In perfect security, loudly enough for him to distinguish their voices, but not loudly enough for him to hear what they were saying. What was he to do?
He had come without any definite plan; he meant to act as the circumstances demanded. Having no weapon, he decided that to start a hand to hand struggle of which when all was said and done, he might get the worst, was too dangerous. Besides, if he did get the best of it, would he be able by threats to make such a tough opponent as Jodot speak, to confess himself beaten and hand over the information which he had obtained with such difficulty?
He continued to crawl forward therefore, with infinite precaution and very slowly, in the hope of catching a sentence that would enlighten him. So slowly [[293]]did he move that he could not himself hear the rustling of his body through the grass. He advanced six feet, then ten, and so reached a point from which he could hear distinctly what they were saying.
“For goodness sake, don’t make yourself ill, thinking about it,” growled Jodot. “When we last went down to the flood-gates, the surface of the lake had risen to the fifth mark which is level with the ceiling of the grotto; and since they couldn’t get away, their hash is settled. It’s as certain as that two and two make four.”
“All the same you ought to have posted yourself nearer the grotto and kept watch on them from there,” grumbled William.
“And why not you, my lad?”
“Me! With my arm still stiff! It’s just about as much as I can do to fire my rifle.”
“And then you’re afraid of the beggar,” sneered Jodot.
“And so are you,” retorted William.
“I don’t say I’m not. I preferred to use my rifle and the dodge of flooding the grotto, since we’d got old Talencay’s papers.”