“Do you accept?” said Guerchard. And again his voice quivered with anxiety.
“Well,” said Lupin. And he paused as if finally weighing the matter.
“Well?” said Guerchard, and his voice shook.
“Well—no!” said Lupin; and he laughed a mocking laugh.
“You won’t?” said Guerchard between his teeth.
“No; you wish to catch me. This is just a ruse,” said Lupin, in quiet, measured tones. “At bottom you don’t care a hang about Sonia, Mademoiselle Kritchnoff. You will not arrest her. And then, if you did you have no proofs. There ARE no proofs. As for the pendant, you’d have to prove it. You can’t prove it. You can’t prove that it was in her possession one moment. Where is the pendant?” He paused, and then went on in the same quiet tone: “No, Guerchard; after having kept out of your clutches for the last ten years, I’m not going to be caught to save this child, who is not even in danger. She has a very useful friend in the Duke of Charmerace. I refuse.”
Guerchard stared at him, scowling, biting his lips, seeking a fresh point of attack. For the moment he knew himself baffled, but he still clung tenaciously to the struggle in which victory would be so precious.
The front-door bell rang again.
“There’s a lot of ringing at your bell this morning,” said Guerchard, under his breath; and hope sprang afresh in him.
Again they stood silent, waiting.