Now I have at least half a dozen friends in the cafe below
whom I could summon here by touching that bell, and the identification
of those notes would be a perfectly simple matter. Shall I do it? Or
will you earn another roll by giving me the information I seek?"
Madame leaned forward and whispered in the man's ear. Monsieur Louis
nodded.
"Tell him," Mademoiselle Flossie murmured tremulously. "Monsieur will
not break faith with us. He will not let it be known from whence he
gained the knowledge."
"Agreed!" the young Englishman declared. "Go on."
Madame held up her hand.
"I," she said, "will tell Monsieur what we know."
She rose to her feet and leaned over the table. The blue-black sequins
on her dress glittered and shone in the dull light. Her figure was
superb, her neck and bosom a flawless white. The Englishman, however,
was unmoved. His keen gray eyes were fixed upon her, but the revolver
remained in his right hand. From downstairs they could hear the music of
violins, the rattle of glasses, the hum of voices and laughter. Madame
frowned slightly as she marked the young Englishman's alertness. She was
used to victims, and his imperturbability annoyed her.
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