“I expect so.”
“But ... you have seen him?”
“I? No, not yet. He made the appointment by letter, saying both of you would be here, and asking me to dismiss my servants before three o’clock and admit no one while you were here. If I would not consent to that arrangement, I was to notify him by a few words in the Echo de France. But I am only too happy to oblige Mon. Lupin, and so I consented.”
“Ah! how will this end?” moaned Mon. Gerbois.
He took the bank-notes from his pocket, placed them on the table and divided them into two equal parts. Then the two men sat there in silence. From time to time, Mon. Gerbois would listen. Did someone ring?... His nervousness increased every minute, and Monsieur Detinan also displayed considerable anxiety. At last, the lawyer lost his patience. He rose abruptly, and said:
“He will not come.... We shouldn’t expect it. It would be folly on his part. He would run too great a risk.”
And Mon. Gerbois, despondent, his hands resting on the bank-notes, stammered:
“Oh! Mon Dieu! I hope he will come. I would give the whole of that money to see my daughter again.”
The door opened.
“Half of it will be sufficient, Monsieur Gerbois.”