"Listen," he continued. "I have tried to keep the promise made to you that miserable night in Rochelle."
"You have more than kept your promise," I interrupted eagerly.
"I have done what I could. It is not much, but enough perhaps to show I am your friend. Now, ask me no questions; I cannot reply to them; but for the love you bear your sister answer what I ask you. Can you make an excuse to leave Paris?"
"And desert my patron?"
"No," said he thoughtfully, "it is too much to expect from a man of honour; but there is your servant! He is shrewd and capable, and will fight to the death in your sister's defence."
"Yes," I exclaimed, "you judge him rightly."
"Do not start; keep a smile on your face, but understand all the time that I am speaking of a matter of life and death. Invent what excuse you like, but to-morrow morning send Jacques to Rochelle in charge of your sister, and let him make no delay on the road. Brush aside all objections; do not be influenced by any one; follow my advice, and I pledge my word that you will not regret it."
"This is somewhat startling!" I exclaimed; "you must have some good reasons for such advice as this. Can you not trust me?"
"Monsieur," he replied a little bitterly, "I have already told you that I have my own code of honour. It sounds strange from the lips of an adventurer, does it not? But I cannot betray the man whose bread I eat. As a matter of fact, I know nothing; to-morrow I may know more—that is why I am speaking to-night. Now I must leave you, but I say again with all the earnestness I possess, send your sister to Rochelle in the morning, even if you have to force her to go!"
Raising his voice he uttered some commonplace about the brilliancy of the scene, smiled brightly, waved his hand, and disappeared, leaving me lost in wonder and perplexity.