“Splendid, captain,” he said, “splendid! My best compliments! You’re making real progress since I joined forces with you. M. Vacherot will go through fire and water for us now.”
“Well, you see if I don’t make the fellow speak,” shouted Patrice.
“It’s no use, sir,” declared the porter, very firmly and calmly. “You have deceived me. You are enemies of M. Siméon’s. I shall not say another word that can give you any information.”
“You refuse to speak, do you? You refuse to speak?”
In his exasperation Patrice drew his revolver and aimed it at the man:
“I’m going to count three. If, by that time, you don’t make up your mind to speak, you shall see the sort of man that Captain Belval is!”
The porter gave a start:
“Captain Belval, did you say? Are you Captain Belval?”
“Ah, old fellow, that seems to give you food for thought!”
“Are you Captain Belval? Patrice Belval?”