With joint toil, the pair of lovers prepare a letter to Leroyne & Co., bankers, 16 Rue Vivienne.
Marie's trembling hand draws the paper from her bosom. She knows that address by heart.
"Give it to me, Marie," he pleads, "for safety." A FRENCHWOMAN can deny her lover nothing.
"Now, listen, 'ma cherie,'" Jules murmurs. "You get the one treasure. To-morrow I go to the bank, the telegraph, you understand, but not till you have the other money safe." Her eyes sparkle. A double fortune! A double revenge! A veritable "coup de Machiavelli."
"And I must go, dearest. I wait for you to-morrow. You get your money; then I am off to the bank, and we will secure the rest. Bravo!"
Jules snaps his fingers at the imbeciles. He sees the "Hotel Tessier" rising in cloudland.
"Press this proud woman hard now. Be careful. I will pay the coup‚; we might be followed."
While Jules is absent, Marie dreams the rosy dreams of fruition. Love, avarice, revenge!
Down through the entrance, they saunter singly. Both are Parisians. After a square or two brings them to night's obscurity, parting kisses seal the dark bond; Judge Hardin shall pay after madame; Marie's velvet hand grips Jules' palm in a sinful compact.
Home by the usual way, past Notre Dame, and Jules will discreetly watch her safety till she reaches the omnibus.