The Road to Paradise
me, I should be desolated"—the man mocked—"to be lost to your good graces, Colonel O'Rourke, merely because we have succeeded in outwitting you. In all fairness, that was our business. Could you have expected us to act otherwise?"
"No," admitted O'Rourke, caught by the fellow's tone of good-natured raillery; "but surely ye don't expect me to be pleased with meself, monsieur? Faith!" And he laughed bitterly.
"So, then, I have made no mistake, after all? You admit that you are Colonel Terence O'Rourke?"
"Admit it, me friend? Sure, and ye did not expect me to deny it? Whilst there's a fighting chance, monsieur, I am prepared to lie with the best of ye; but when ye have me, body, soul and breeches—I'll throw up me hands, just as I did when ye asked me to, so politely. But," he continued, talking to make time, and to throw the fellow off his guard if possible, "could ye favor me with a bit of a word as to me probable fate, monsieur? Sure, and 'tis no crime for a man, even an Irishman, to journey into Grandlieu?"
"No—no crime, monsieur. But, perhaps, an indiscretion. Shall we call it a breach of international etiquette, monsieur—taking into consideration all the circumstances?"
"Faith, would ye make me out a Power, together with that precious duke of yours?" O'Rourke laughed.
"The comparison is not unapt, monsieur." His captor bowed—and maintained the muzzle of the revolver within a foot of O'Rourke's heart. "Not unapt," he repeated; "which you are to consider as the reason why I am taking such care of you, monsieur."
"I would ye were less careful. Is there anything now, monsieur, which might tempt ye to carelessness—for one little moment?"
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