every cent that could be scraped together for our business. But what interested me even more was Kharkoff's journey to London. I had little doubt that Léontine would take the pearls with her, to dispose of in England. If the Prince were to make an early start for the run to Boulogne, Léontine might not be able to meet me at Bagatelle—or at least, this would be so difficult that she might prefer to run the risk of my fulfilling my threat.
If possible, then, I must manage to see her that very night. It seemed likely that Kharkoff would want to follow up his luck at the tables, and, having once started to play, he might be counted on as a fixture until the game closed. This would give me a chance to see Léontine; and, for that matter, the sooner I had it out with her over the pearls the better.
So I found an inconspicuous corner near the door and waited. As the game proceeded it appeared that John was winning, and I decided to have a straight talk with him the next day and try to persuade him to leave baccarat alone. The chances were, I thought, that if he managed to recoup to any extent he would listen to reason, being a good-natured sort of chap and not hard to influence.
A little after midnight there was a sudden stir in one room and the crowd not playing turned to look over their shoulders. "Le Prince," I heard, and here was Kharkoff's big bulk at my shoulder. He crowded in to reach the table, and I slipped out and made for the street.
"And now," said I to myself, "for Léontine."
