“But,” said Patrice, anxiously, “suppose the scoundrel returns to the attack. Ought we not to take some precautions? Let’s go back to the lodge: Coralie is all alone.”
“There’s no danger.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m here.”
Patrice was more astounded than ever:
“Then Siméon knows you?” he asked. “He knows that you are here?”
“Yes, thanks to a letter which I wrote you under cover to Ya-Bon and which he intercepted. I told you that I was coming; and he hurried to get to work. Only, as my habit is on these occasions, I hastened on my arrival by a few hours, so that I caught him in the act.”
“At that moment you did not know he was the enemy; you knew nothing?”
“Nothing at all.”
“Was it this morning?”