“Yes, considering I have buried myself here for several months, and have no other occupation beyond strolling about or killing time in deserted estaminets. The winter here was most abominably dull; in fact, were it not for your sake—”
“You mean for the sake of your own neck,” interrupted mademoiselle, smiling.
“Well, I admit it is not for your sake alone that I’m in hiding, but personating a dead man has its drawbacks. Within twenty-four hours of leaving London I arrived at this sleepy hole, and my name has since been Adolphe Chavoix, gentleman, living on his means. From the time I first set foot in the place I’ve never been five miles from it, and I expect I shall be compelled to remain here for months, perhaps for a year longer,” he said dismally.
“Is it a safe retreat?”
“Safe! I should think it is! Why, I’m as well-known as the doyen himself. The rustics fancy I’m a decent sort of fellow, and I’m on visiting terms with almost everybody, from the imbecile old Burgomaster downwards. Why, the police commissary of the district is one of my closest friends. Bless you, I’m as safe here as if I lay in my coffin. But, tell me, what progress are you making?”
“As much as can be expected,” she replied, taking his arm and leaning upon him in the stiff ascent. “I explained to you yesterday the plan we propose; but, of course, it is highly dangerous.”
“For boldness and impudence I’ve never heard its equal,” declared Pierre candidly.
“Bien, then you recognise how imperative it is that our arrangements should be elaborated before the coup is made. There were many obstacles in our path, but one by one these are being removed. When the course is quite open we shall act.”
“He still loves you?”
“Yes,” she replied with a grim smile.