across the lawn with me. Before we took the second turn, I had told him the story.
"Good God!" said he, turning very pale. "Are ye sure of it?"
"As sure as you're talking to me."
"And the man's her husband?"
"Something like that," said I.
"The little witch!" cried he, though it was plain that the news hit him hard.
"But I've the matter of two thousand in notes, and promises for as much more in my pockets now," he went on after the pause. "Ye must know that I had the luck to-night when she came to the table."
"If that's the case, sir," said I, "the sooner the money's in the bank at Brest, the better for us."
"Ye speak truth," exclaimed he; "but who's to take it?"
"I'll start at dawn," said I; "meanwhile there's no need for me to go to sleep. I'm used to a night out of bed now and then."
"And what should I do?"
"Go on as usual, but take the first train to Paris in the morning. I don't fancy the police as footmen myself—nor you neither, I imagine?"
He said that he did not, and when he had given me the money—and the promise of two hundred and fifty if I got through safe with it—he went back to the others as I had suggested. But I returned to my room, and locking myself in, I waited for the dawn like a sick man. Many anxious nights I have passed
