“Gone to Paris, on urgent business, so my wife said.”
“Messieurs,” interposed Edmond, “it seems to me that you are forgetting what brings you together; be good enough to complete your arrangements for the duel.”
“Well, messieurs, what do you propose? we are waiting to hear from you.”
“To-morrow morning, at eight o’clock——”
“Why not finish it up to-day?”
“Presumably because that would not suit Monsieur Luminot. If you interrupt us so soon—hum! hum!—we shall never finish.”
“True; go on, monsieur.”
“To-morrow morning, at eight o’clock, in the little wood behind what used to be the keeper’s house, as you go down the hill toward Raincy.”
“Very good,” said Paul, “I know the place.”
“Monsieur Luminot chooses pistols.”