"It is not he that is dangerous," said the Prince.
"What, then?"
The Prince shook his head doubtfully. Such men as he seldom have a confidant, but he was used to speak to Dupontel with more freedom than to any other.
"Things are dangerous," he answered. "There is bad luck about; I tell you, I feel it. And now, this business of Carigny cropping up, rising like a ghost of the past to demand a reckoning!" He shuddered; it was like the shudder of a man who feels a sudden chill. "A reckoning!" he repeated. "At this rate, one is never quit of anything."
They were nearing the restaurant at which they were to lunch.
Dupontel touched his companion lightly on the arm.
"You are depressed," he said. "You must gather your forces, Monpavon. You mustn't let Carigny find you in a state like this; it would make things easy for him."
The Prince made a weary little gesture of assent. "I shall be ready for him," he said. "If only-"
"If only what?"
They were at the door of the restaurant. A page like a scarlet doll held open the door for them; a Swiss, ornately uniformed, stood frozen at the salute. The Prince's somber eyes passed unseeing over these articles of human furniture.
"If only I don't get a sign," he said; "like going out without my
Mexican coin, you know that would be a sign. If only I can avoid that
and a couple of other things I'll be ready enough for Monsieur
Carigny when he comes."