“I have already said that my memory is retentive.”
“Ah! You men of war are like flint and steel.” The shadow of a smile flickered over his thin, red lips. “I but recalled you to that promise, monsieur, because I would like it fulfilled to-night.”
“To-night?”
“Yes. A few hours sooner or later can matter little to you.”
“Not a rush! When and where?”
“An hour after compline, in the priory of the Jacobins. You know it?”
“There will be no difficulty in finding it out.”
“And you will come?”
“Yes,” I answered slowly, and then leaning forward, he touched me slightly on the arm.
“I will return you those letters there if you do what I want. They are useless to me—but to you——” And he simply looked at me, the unspoken sentence in his eyes.