“Why? Ah! Why—-,” stammered the banker, with a slight display of emotion.
“You know very well, Mon. Andermatt, if you had the least certainty of our guilt, our little threat would not have stopped you.”
“What threat? Those letters? Do you suppose I ever gave those letters a moment’s thought?”
“If you did not care for the letters, why did you offer me thousands of francs for their return? And why did you have my brother and me tracked like wild beasts?”
“To recover the plans.”
“Nonsense! You wanted the letters. You knew that as soon as you had the letters in your possession, you could denounce us. Oh! no, I couldn’t part with them!”
He laughed heartily, but stopped suddenly, and said:
“But, enough of this! We are merely going over old ground. We make no headway. We had better let things stand as they are.”
“We will not let them stand as they are,” said the banker, “and since you have referred to the letters, let me tell you that you will not leave this house until you deliver up those letters.”
“I shall go when I please.”