“We must find it. But the thing must go forward to the end. Remember that! This scoundrel must be suffered to burn his fingers.”
“Can you contrive it—you, alone?”
“I think so; but, Bon Pre, you are here, and Challus, and Le Moyne, and Beauvais and Marchand, and, perhaps, one or two more—true men upon whom we can rely—and these, mark me, must be in readiness. Of this you shall learn hereafter.”
They entered the chamber of Laudonniere. He still slept. Bon Pre placed the vessel of coffee beside him and disappeared. D’Erlach seated himself at a little distance from the couch. When Laudonniere wakened the liquor was cold. He laid it down again.
“What! you here, Alphonse; but you have been to bed?”
“I do not sleep as soundly as you. I left my chamber as old Bon Pre brought your coffee, and entered with him. You do not drink?”
“The coffee is cold.”
“It spoils your breakfast, too, I imagine. You do not eat heartily at breakfast.”
“No; dinner is my meal. But, Alphonse—did I dream, or did we not have some conversation about Marchand and chess-playing last night?”
“We did! This morning rather.”