“Monsieur de St. Gré,” I replied with difficulty, “you will confine yourself to the matter in hand. You are in no situation to demand terms; you must take or leave what is offered you. Last night the man called Gignoux, who was of your party, was at the Governor's house.”
At this he started perceptibly.
“Ha, I thought he was a traitor,” he cried. Strangely enough, he did not doubt my word in this.
“I am surprised that your father's house has not been searched this morning,” I continued, astonished at my own moderation. “The sentiments of the Baron de Carondelet are no doubt known to you, and you are aware that your family or your friends cannot save you if you are arrested. You may have this money on two conditions. The first is that you leave the province immediately. The second, that you reveal the whereabouts of Mr. Nicholas Temple.”
“Monsieur is very kind,” he replied, and added the taunt, “and well versed in the conduct of affairs of money.”
“Does Monsieur de St. Gré accept?” I asked.
He threw out his hands with a gesture of resignation.
“Who am I to accept?” he said, “a fugitive, an outcast. And I should like to remind Monsieur that time passes.”
“It is a sensible observation,” said I, meaning that it was the first. His sudden docility made me suspicious. “What preparations have you made to go?”
“They are not elaborate, Monsieur, but they are complete. When I leave you I step into a pirogue which is tied to the river bank.”