“Letters,” he interrupted, still with that cold smile on his face. “They were even more interesting than the scroll. Bah! Monsieur de Vibrac! I thought better of you. I little imagined you could be the plaything of a coquette!”
I winced at the words, and he went on: “Such women as that take the soul out of a man. They should be destroyed like vampires.”
“Is this all you have to say?” I asked unsteadily as we rode side by side slowly down the Rue Jeanne d’Arc.
“No, monsieur; events are moving more rapidly than I thought, and it becomes necessary for us to move with them.”
“Indeed!” I replied. “I see not how the matter concerns me.”
“Is your memory defective?” he asked, with a sneer.
“On the contrary, it is peculiarly retentive.” There was something in my voice, low as it was, something in the words, that had a convincing effect, and Achon appreciated the position. His tone and manner changed on the instant, and it was with a cat-like, caressing purr that he said:
“Your pardon, de Vibrac! The old Adam comes out in me too often, I fear, long and painfully though I have borne the cross——” But, still hot with resentment and the thoughts he had inspired, I interrupted him.
“Monsieur, I am pressed for time.”
“And so am I,” with a quick, almost imperceptible change to his former manner. “You have not forgotten our little agreement.”