"Leave me alone for three weeks and the money is yours," concluded
de Batz pleasantly.
There was silence in the room now. Through the narrow barred
window the steely rays of the moon fought with the dim yellow
light of the oil lamp, and lit up the pale face of the Committee's
agent with its lines of cruelty in sharp conflict with those of
greed.
"Well! is it a bargain?" asked de Batz at last in his usual
smooth, oily voice, as he half drew from out his pocket that
tempting little bundle of crisp printed paper. "You have only to
give me the usual receipt for the money and it is yours."
Heron gave a vicious snarl.
"It is dangerous, I tell you. That receipt, if it falls into some
cursed meddler's hands, would send me straight to the guillotine."
"The receipt could only fall into alien hands," rejoined de Batz
blandly, "if I happened to be arrested, and even in that case they
could but fall into those of the chief agent of the Committee of
General Security, and he hath name Heron. You must take some
risks, my friend. I take them too. We are each in the other's
hands. The bargain is quite fair."
For a moment or two longer Heron appeared to be hesitating whilst
de Batz watched him with keen intentness. He had no doubt himself
as to the issue.
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