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It
is your life against mine, Fresnel; and you'll not find it strange
that if one of us must die I prefer that it shall be you."
Fresnel dipped a hand into his pocket, and fetched thence a key.
He held it out to Andre-Louis in fingers that shook - more in anger
than in fear.
"I yield to violence," he said, showing his teeth like a snarling
dog. "But don't imagine that it will greatly profit you."
Andre-Louis took the key. His pistol remained levelled.
"You threaten me, I think," he said. "It is not difficult to read
your threat. The moment I am gone, you will run to inform against
me. You will set the marechaussee on my heels to overtake me."
"No, no!" cried the other. He perceived his peril. He read his
doom in the cold, sinister note on which Andre-Louis addressed him,
and grew afraid. "I swear to you, monsieur, that I have no such
intention."
"I think I had better make quite sure of you."
"O my God! Have mercy, monsieur!" The knave was in a palsy of
terror. "I mean you no harm - I swear to Heaven I mean you no harm.


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