"No, he does not. I said, 'You are scamp enough to swear that we set on you to steal your papers, a fine tale for our Jacobin mobocrats.' A fellow can't lie with his whole face. I saw his eyes narrow, but I told him to try it if he dared, and out comes my tale of his treachery. We made a compact at last, and he will swear he was set upon and robbed. I left him to invent his story. But it is plainly his interest to keep faith, and not accuse you."
"He will not keep faith. Sometime he will lie about me. The despatch has gone by the Jean Bart, but that part of our defense is far to reach."
"Well, Chovet is gold dumb, and as for the Jacobin, no man can tell. If he be wise, he will stick to his tale of highwaymen. Of course I asked Chovet to let the minister learn of this sad accident, but he did not arrive until after I had the fellow well scared."
"Is that all?"
"No. The man is in torment. Damn! if I were in pain like that, I should kill myself. Except that fever, I never had anything worse than a stomachache in all my life. The man is on the rack, and Chovet declares that he will never use the arm again, and will have some daily reminder of you so long as he lives. Now, René, a man on the rack may come to say things of the gentleman who turned on the torture."
"Then some day he will lie, and I, mon Dieu, will be ruined. Who will believe me? The State Department will get the credit of it, and I shall be thrown over—sacrificed to the wolves of party slander."
"Not if I am here."
"If you are here?"
"Yes. At any time I may have to go home."
"Then let us tell the whole story."