“What makes you expect this?”
“It is more than mere surmise,” he said slowly and in deep earnestness. “I happen to know.”
From that last sentence of his I jumped to the conclusion that he was, after all, one of the malefactors. He was warning me with the distinct object of putting me off my guard. His next move, no doubt, would be to try and pose as my friend and adviser! I laughed within myself, for I was too wary for him.
“Well,” I said, after a few moments’ silence, as together we ascended the broad flight of steps, with the high column looming in the darkness, “the fact is, I’ve become tired of all these warnings. Everybody I meet seems to predict disaster for me. Why, I can’t make out.”
“No one has revealed to you the reason—eh?” he asked in a low, meaning voice.
“No.”
“Ah! Then, of course, you cannot discern the peril. It is but natural that you should treat all well-meant advice lightly. Probably I should, mon cher ami, if I were in your place.”
“Well,” I exclaimed impatiently, halting again, “now, what is it that you really know? Don’t beat about the bush any longer. Tell me, frankly and openly.”
The man merely raised his shoulders significantly, but made no response. In the ray of light which fell upon him, his gold-rimmed spectacles glinted, while his shrewd dark eyes twinkled behind them, as though he delighted in mystifying me.
“Surely you can reply,” I cried in anger. “What is the reason of all this? What have I done?”