in the hotel to-morrow until you hear from some of us. I may not promise too much, but I think—I believe—that we can save you."
At that moment Louis' words meant little to me. I was still under the spell of those few wonderful moments, still mad with the joy of having taken the vengeance for which every nerve in my body had craved. It was not until afterwards that their practical import came home to me.
CHAPTER VI
AN INFORMAL TRIBUNAL
I was awakened about midday by the valet de chambre, who informed me that a gentleman was waiting below to see me—a gentleman who had given the name of Monsieur Louis. I ordered him to prepare my bath and bring my coffee. When Louis was shown upstairs I was seated on the edge of my bed in my dressing-gown, smoking my first cigarette.
Louis had the appearance of a man who had not slept. As for myself, I had never opened my eyes from the moment when my head had touched the pillow. I had no nerves, and I had done nothing which I regretted. I fancy, therefore, that my general appearance and reception of him somewhat astonished my early visitor. He seemed, indeed, to take my nonchalance almost as an affront, and he proceeded at once to try and disturb it.
"Monsieur was expecting, perhaps, another sort of visitor?" he asked.
I shook my head.
"I really hadn't thought about it," I said. "After what you told me last night I have been feeling quite comfortable."
"Do you know that it is doubtful whether Monsieur Tapilow will live?" Louis asked.
"It was the just payment of a just debt," I answered.
"The law," he objected, "does not permit such adjustments."
"The law," I answered, "can do what it pleases with me."
Louis regarded me steadily for a moment or two, and I fancied that there was something of that admiration in his gaze which a cautious man sometimes feels for the foolhardy.
"Monsieur has slept well?" he asked.
"Excellently," I answered.
He glanced at the watch which he had taken from his waistcoat pocket.
"In twenty minutes," he announced, "we must be at the Café Normandy."
I raised my eyebrows.
"Indeed!" I said dryly. "I don't exactly follow you."
Louis shrugged his shoulders.
"Monsieur," he said, "it is no time, this, for the choice of words. There is a man who lies very near to death up there in the Café des Deux Épingles, and it must be decided within the next few hours what is to be done with him."
"I am not sure that I understand, Louis," I said, lighting a cigarette.
"You will understand at the Café Normandy in half an hour's time," Louis answered. "In the meanwhile, have you a servant? If not, summon the valet de chambre. You must dress quickly. It is important, this."
"I will dress in ten minutes," I replied, "but I must shave before I go out. That will take me another ten. In the meantime, perhaps you will kindly tell me what it all means?"
"What it all means!" Louis repeated, with upraised hands. "Is it not clear? Have you forgotten what happened only a few hours ago? It rests with one or two people as to whether you shall be given up to the police for what you did last night—does monsieur understand that?—the police!"
"To tell you the truth, Louis," I answered, "I never dreamed of escaping from them. It did not seem possible."
"In which case?" Louis asked slowly.
I pointed to the revolver upon my mantelpiece.
"We all," I remarked, "make the mistake of overestimating the actual importance of life."
Louis shivered a little. I noticed both then and afterwards that he was never comfortable in the presence of firearms.
"A last resource, of course," I said, "but one should always be prepared!"
"In this city," Louis said, "it is not as in London. In London there are no corners which are not swept bare by your police. In London, by this time you would have been sitting in a prison cell."
"That," I remarked, "is doubtless true. So much the more fortunate for me that I should have met Monsieur Tapilow in Paris and not in London. But will you tell me, Louis, why you want me to go with you to the Café Normandy, and how you think it will help me?"
"It would take too long," Louis answered. "We will talk in the carriage, perhaps. You must not delay now—not one moment."
I humored him by hastening my preparations, and we left the place together a few minutes later. There were many things which I desired to ask him with regard to the events of last night and the place to which he had taken me, but as though by mutual consent neither of us spoke of these things. When we were already, however, about half way towards the famous restaurant which was our destination I could not keep silence any longer.
"Louis," I said, "tell me about this little excursion of ours. Who are these men whom we are going to meet?"
He turned towards me. The last few hours seemed to have brought us into a greater intimacy. He addressed me by name, and his manner, although it was still respectful enough, was somehow altered.
"Captain Rotherby," he said, "you do not seem to appreciate the position in which you stand. You are young, and life is hot in your veins, and yet to-day, as you sit there, your liberty is forfeit—perhaps even, if Tapilow should die, your life! Have you ever heard any stories, I wonder," he added, leaning a little toward me, "about French prisons?"
"Are you trying to frighten me, Louis?" I asked.
"No!" he answered, "but I want you to realize that you are in a very serious position."
"I know that," I answered. "Don't think, Louis," I continued, "that what I did last night was the result of a rash impulse. I had sworn since a certain day in the autumn of last year that the first time I came face to face with that man, whether it was in the daytime or the nighttime, in a friend's house or on the street, I would punish him. Well, I have kept my word. I had to. I have had my fill of vengeance. He can go through the rest of his life, so far as I am concerned, unharmed. But what I did, I was bound to do, and I am ready to face the consequences, if necessary."
Louis nodded sympathetically.
"Monsieur," said he, "you have but to talk like that to convince the men whom you will meet in a few moments that you had a real grievance against Tapilow, and all may yet be well."
"Who are these men?" I asked. "Is it a police
