“What of it?” whispered Speed. “Doesn’t everybody know that the conspiracy runs close to the throne? What do you care? Come on, I tell you; I’ve had enough of this rotten government. So have 149 you. And we’ve both seen enough to ruin us. Come on!”
“But he’s got those diamonds! Do you think I can stand that?”
“I think you’ve got to,” muttered Speed, savagely. “Do you want to rot in Cayenne? If you do, stay here and bawl for a court-martial!”
“But the government—”
“Let the government go to the devil! It’s going fast enough, anyhow. Come, don’t let Mornac find us here when he returns. He may be coming now—quick, Scarlett! We’ve got to cut for it!”
“Speed,” I said, unsteadily, “it’s enough to make an honest man strike hands with Buckhurst in earnest.”
Speed took my arm with a cautious glance at the door of the next room, and urged me toward the corridor.
“The government has kicked us out into the street,” he muttered; “be satisfied that the government didn’t kick us into Biribi. And it will yet if you don’t come.”
“Come? Where? I haven’t any money, and now they’ve got my honor—”
“Rubbish!” he whispered, fairly dragging me into the hallway. “Here! No—don’t go to your rooms. Leave everything—get clear of this rat-pit, I tell you.”