De Fontenay began to back along the railing, all the while staring at Jacques with eyes fearful and uncertain. Finally he summoned the courage to speak.
"You are a bete, Jacques, truly a beast." His voice trembled, and glistening droplets of sweat had begun to bead on his smooth forehead. "We are going to open Purgatory and release the men you have down there. Give me the keys, or I will kill you myself, I swear it."
"You'd do well to put those guns away, you little fou. Before I become annoyed." Jacques glared at him a moment, then turned toward Winston, his voice even. "Anglais, kindly pass me one of your pistols. Or I will be forced to kill this little putain and all the rest with my own bare hands. I would regret having to soil them."
"You'd best settle this yourself, Jacques. I keep my pistols. Besides, maybe you should open that new dungeon of yours. We never needed anything like that in the old days."
"Damn you, Anglais." His voice hardened. "I said give me a gun."
At that moment, another guard from below appeared at the opening. With a curse, Jacques stepped over and shoved a heavy boot into his face, sending the startled man sprawling backward. Then he seized the iron ladder and drew it up, beyond reach of those below. He ignored de Fontenay as he turned back to Winston.
"Are you defying me too, Anglais? Bon. Because before this night is over, I have full intention of settling our accounts."
"Jacques, mon ami!" Winston laughed. "Here all this time I thought we were going to be freres again." He sobered. "Though I would prefer going in partners with a commander who can manage his own men."
"You mean this little one?" He thumbed at de Fontenay. "Believe me when I tell you he does not have the courage of—“
Now de Fontenay was raising the pistol in his right hand, shakily. "I said to give us the keys, Jacques. You have gone too far."