"You are over careful," was the answer.
"I have my head to consider," Bruslart laughed. "No man pays the doctor before he has taken his physic."
The doctor laughed too, it was the only way to deal with such a man, and departed. Bruslart could not escape him. The money was already as good as in his hands. Bruslart once out of Paris, Legrand could answer any question the officers of the Convention might put to him. He had done as Citizen Bruslart had commanded him, what else could he have done? Monsieur Fouquier-Tinville and others could not say much, they were too interested in his establishment. Besides, although mademoiselle had escaped from his house, it was most unlikely that she could leave Paris. She would be found.
Bruslart locked his door when the doctor had gone. Before the doctor he had shown no anger, no agitation, but alone, he was like an animal caught in a trap. For this money he had schemed, lied, and betrayed an innocent woman; he had just enough conscience to hate the remembrance of all he had done, and now half the reward of his treachery was to be filched from him. For a moment he was tempted to go before Legrand returned, but he was afraid. Legrand had the whip hand of him. Could he cheat him? The opportunity might come at the last moment. How could it be done?
He was deep in a dozen plans which came in a chaotic confusion into his mind, when there was a knock at the door, two low, single knocks followed a double one, Legrand's signal. An hour had not passed. Legrand had returned quickly. What had happened? He opened the door, then started back.
"Pauline!"
For a moment she stood on the threshold apparently with some feeling for the dramatic effect in her attitude, then she entered and closed the door.
"Yes, Pauline," she said.
Bruslart had been taken unawares; he had unfortunately allowed the woman to see his surprise, and cursed his folly as he regained his equanimity with an effort.
"You are welcome, Pauline, as welcome as—"