He thought of the saying of the old Quaker, whenever he heard of a criminal on the road to death. “There, but for the grace of God, goes myself.”
Yes, but for the sudden intervention in the shape of good old Papa Péron, he might have drifted into evil courses like the wretched creature grovelling at his feet. It was not for him to judge.
He looked at him steadily, still keeping the pistol levelled at the vital part, and repeated his question.
“What has become of your band of robbers and assassins?” he asked sternly.
“Dispersed, Monsieur—dispersed, I give you my word. Yesterday we learned that the soldiers and police were on our track, were preparing to draw a cordon round us. It was a case of sauve qui peut, devil take the hindmost. We agreed to separate. There were not more than half a dozen of us, but our numbers have been exaggerated. We all scattered in different directions. Somehow, I stumbled up here, and you tell me the little village is astir.”
“What is it you want of me?”
“Just a little money, Monsieur; just a little money to help me on my way to St. Petersburg, where I shall find friends.”
Nello looked at him suspiciously. “But why do you want money? It was only yesterday that you heard the police were closing round you. You have been robbing as you go. When you agreed to separate, no doubt you divided the ready money.”
“That is true, Monsieur; you are very clever,” replied the grovelling man in a fawning voice. “You will hardly believe me when I tell you, but I swear it is true. Last night I slept in a little inn a few miles from here. I had drunk heavily, I admit; I slept very soundly. When I awoke in the morning every coin I possessed had been stolen from my pockets. I, an old hand, blush to tell you, Monsieur; but I, who have robbed so many, was robbed myself.”