“I can’t help that,” he laughed. “She must get over it. If she wants fine dresses and a good time she must help us. And I mean that she shall before long. Look at Tavernier’s wife.”
“She is of a different type to madame.”
“Rubbish!” he laughed. “Wait and see what I’ll do. She’ll be a valuable asset to us before long.”
Adolphe leaned his elbows upon the table and shrugged his shoulders.
“Bien!” he said. “Let me hear the proposition.”
“It is quite simple,” the young adventurer said. “I know the interior of the Baron’s house. There is a lot of good stuff there—some jewellery, too, and even enough table silver to make the job worth while. In his safe he keeps a lot of papers. If we could only get them they would fetch something in certain quarters—enough to make us both rich; but the worst of it is that we left our jet in London, and we cannot get it without.” And he took a caporal from the packet before him and slowly lit it. Then he resumed, saying: “Now, I propose that we leave the safe out of the question, and go for the plate in the salle-à-manger. We have no tools for a really artistic job, so we must be content this time with the Baron’s embroideries. His papers may come later—at least, that’s my project. I’ve been out at Neuilly all day, and have had a good look around, and decided on the way we shall get in. It is perfectly easy—all save the watchdog. But a bit of doctored meat will do the trick. I got a little dose for him from old Père Lebrun on my way home,” and from his pocket he produced a small bottle.
“Is the Baron at home?” asked his accomplice, to whom, of course, Ansell had never spoken about the failure of his plot for blackmail.
“Of course,” was the reply. “But what does that matter? He’ll be sound asleep, and to-morrow we shall be a couple of thousand francs the richer. It is childishly easy, my dear friend, I assure you.”
“And if we meet the Baron, who, if all I hear be true, is an extremely shrewd person, what shall we do?”
“Well, if we meet anybody, we must act as we have always acted.”