“So!” he exclaimed, coming close up to me. “You have reached Canaples at last!”
“At last?” I echoed.
“Whom have you there?” he inquired abruptly.
“Only Michelot.”
“Bid him fall behind a little.”
When Michelot had complied with this request, “You see, M. de Luynes,” quoth the officer, “that you have arrived too late.”
There was a certain coldness in his tone that made me seek by my reply to sound him.
“Indeed, I trust not, my friend. With your assistance I hope to get M. de Canaples from the clutches of St. Auban.”
He shook his head.
“It is impossible that I should help you,” he replied with increasing coldness. “Already once for your sake have I broken faith to those who pay me, by setting you in a position to forestall St. Auban and get M. de Canaples away before his arrival. Unfortunately, you have dallied on the road, M. de Luynes, and Canaples is already a prisoner—a doomed one, I fear.”