“555 Central: would you like to telephone to her?” said Guerchard; and he smiled triumphantly at the disabled instrument.
Lupin shock his head with a careless smile, and said, “Why should I telephone to her? What are you driving at?”
“Nothing ... that’s all,” said Guerchard. And he leant back in his chair with an ugly smile on his face.
“Evidently nothing. For, after all, what has that child got to do with you? You’re not interested in her, plainly. She’s not big enough game for you. It’s me you are hunting ... it’s me you hate ... it’s me you want. I’ve played you tricks enough for that, you old scoundrel. So you’re going to leave that child in peace? ... You’re not going to revenge yourself on her? ... It’s all very well for you to be a policeman; it’s all very well for you to hate me; but there are things one does not do.” There was a ring of menace and appeal in the deep, ringing tones of his voice. “You’re not going to do that, Guerchard.... You will not do it.... Me—yes—anything you like. But her—her you must not touch.” He gazed at the detective with fierce, appealing eyes.
“That depends on you,” said Guerchard curtly.
“On me?” cried Lupin, in genuine surprise.
“Yes, I’ve a little bargain to propose to you,” said Guerchard.
“Have you?” said Lupin; and his watchful face was serene again, his smile almost pleasant.
“Yes,” said Guerchard. And he paused, hesitating.
“Well, what is it you want?” said Lupin. “Out with it! Don’t be shy about it.”