The scoundrels round the table then watched Melun take his departure with Ross and Crow. The room was very quiet, and Westerham could hear the men's retreating footsteps along the path of the canal.
When they had quite ceased to be audible Westerham turned again to the bullet-headed man.
“How long do you suppose,” he asked, “we shall have to wait?”
“Heaven knows,” answered the fat man, with a shrug.
“Then, if you will permit me,” said Westerham, “I will sit down. And,” he added, “I should be obliged to you if you will remove these.”
He stretched out his handcuffed wrists.
One of the men laughed and knocked them off. Westerham thanked him and sat down.
Without more ado he took out his cigarette-case and lit a cigarette. As he smoked he turned things rapidly over in his mind. He was perfectly certain that Melun, in spite of his protestations, would not reveal the whereabouts of the papers. Westerham even doubted whether Melun would take the trouble to lead the man on a bogus chase.
For some reason which he was unable to account for he had a foreboding of coming evil. He tried to shake it off, but in vain.