Terence O'Rourke, Gentleman Adventurer
he might not succeed. The game was not exactly worth the candle. It was better to wait, to see what opportunity the future might offer. When no other chance remained, it was all very well to stake everything on a single throw; but until that time, O'Rourke, for all his daring, was the man to weigh thoroughly the advisability of each least action.
"May I inquire," he said at length, in his execrable French—it was painful even to O'Rourke to assume such an accent—"what is meant by this outrageous treatment of an Englishman?"
The man, sitting opposite him in the gloom, laughed softly.
"Monsieur the Colonel doubtless is aware of our intentions," he suggested.
"Monsieur the Colonel?" repeated O'Rourke. "I assure ye that there is some mistake here, monsieur—"
"Pray spare yourself the trouble, Colonel O'Rourke. You did very well. Permit me to congratulate you upon confusing our man at the frontier; but still the odds were all against you. We have been expecting you daily, ever since Monsieur Chambret cabled you. Our agents in Paris watched you last night, and saw you take the train for Montbar. Even your—pardon me—your infernal French, could not prevail against such information. Monsieur the Colonel is bold, but I trust he will not be angry if I venture to observe that in this instance he has acted somewhat thoughtlessly. But, perhaps, monsieur, you did not think that we would be so vigilant."
O'Rourke did not reply. He was caught; there was no disguising that unpalatable fact. Anything that he might say would do no good; moreover, he feared to speak lest the anger in his voice should betray his deep chagrin.
"No? You refuse to answer me, monsieur? Believe
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