“And then?”
“And then? It would be a capital notion, if you were alone with the honorable gentleman. The bargain would soon be concluded. But I’m here . . . by Jupiter!”
Patrice had drawn himself up. He stepped towards Don Luis and said, in a voice which became openly hostile:
“I presume that you won’t raise any opposition. It’s a matter of a woman’s life.”
“No doubt. But, on the other hand, it’s a matter of three hundred million francs.”
“Then you refuse?”
“Refuse? I should think so!”
“You refuse when that woman is at her last gasp? You would rather she died? . . . Look here, you seem to forget that this is my affair, that . . . that . . .”
The two men were standing close together. Don Luis retained that chaffing calmness, that air of knowing more than he chose to say, which irritated Patrice. At heart Patrice, while yielding to Don Luis’ mastery, resented it and felt a certain embarrassment at accepting the services of a man with whose past he was so well acquainted.
“Then you actually refuse?” he rapped out, clenching his fists.