Revenge! | Page 7

in prison, and it was the treachery of M. Sonne that had sent him there. As he thought of this, Dupr�� cast a glance at the proprietor and gritted his teeth.
The policeman at the back of the hall, feeling lonely perhaps, walked to the door and nodded to his parading comrade. The other paused for a moment on his beat, and they spoke to each other. As the policeman returned to his place, Dupr�� said to him--
"Have a sip with me."
"Not while on duty," replied the officer with a wink.
"Gar?on," said Dupr�� quietly, "bring me a caraffe of brandy. Fin champagne."
The gar?on placed the little marked decanter on the table with two glasses. Dupr�� filled them both. The policeman, with a rapid glance over his shoulder, tossed one off, and smacked his lips. Dupr�� slowly sipped the other while he asked--
"Do you anticipate any trouble here?"
"Not in the least," answered the officer confidently. "Talk, that's all."
"I thought so," said Dupr��.
"They had a meeting the other night--a secret meeting;" the policeman smiled a little as he said this. "They talked a good deal. They are going to do wonderful things. A man was detailed to carry out this job."
"And have you arrested him?" questioned Dupr��
"Oh dear, no. We watch him merely. He is the most frightened man in the city to-night. We expect him to come and tell us all about it, but we hope he won't. We know more about it than, he does."
"I dare say; still it must have hurt M. Sonne's business a good deal."
"It has killed it for the present. People are such cowards. But the Government will make it all right with him out of the secret fund. He won't lose anything."
"Does he own the whole house, or only the caf��?"
"The whole house. He lets the upper rooms, but nearly all the tenants have left. Yet I call it the safest place in the city. They are all poltroons, the dynamiters, and they are certain to strike at some place not so well guarded. They are all well known to us, and the moment one is caught prowling about here he will be arrested. They are too cowardly to risk their liberty by coming near this place. It's a different thing from leaving a tin can and fuse in some dark corner when nobody is looking. Any fool can do that."
"Then you think this would be a good time to take a room here? I am looking for one in this neighbourhood," said Dupr��.
"You couldn't do better than arrange with M. Sonne. You could make a good bargain with him now, and you would be perfectly safe."
"I am glad that you mentioned it; I will speak to M. Sonne to-night, and see the rooms to-morrow. Have another sip of brandy?"
"No, thank you, I must be getting back to my place. Just tell M. Sonne, if you take a room, that I spoke to you about it."
"I will. Good-night."
Dupr�� paid his bill and tipped the gar?on liberally. The proprietor was glad to hear of any one wanting rooms. It showed the tide was turning, and an appointment was made for next day.
Dupr�� kept his appointment, and the concierge showed him over the house. The back rooms were too dark, the windows being but a few feet from the opposite wall. The lower front rooms were too noisy. Dupr�� said that he liked quiet, being a student. A front room on the third floor, however, pleased him, and he took it. He well knew the necessity of being on good terms with the concierge, who would spy on him anyhow, so he paid just a trifle more than requisite to that functionary, but not enough to arouse suspicion. Too much is as bad as too little, a fact that Dupr�� was well aware of.
He had taken pains to see that his window was directly over the front door of the caf��, but now that he was alone and the door locked, he scrutinised the position more closely. There was an awning over the front of the caf�� that shut off his view of the pavement and the policeman marching below. That complicated matters. Still he remembered that when the sun went down the awning was rolled up. His first idea when he took the room was to drop the dynamite from the third story window to the pavement below, but the more he thought of that plan the less he liked it. It was the sort of thing any fool could do, as the policeman had said. It would take some thinking over. Besides, dynamite dropped on the pavement would, at most, but blow in the front of the shop, kill the perambulating policeman perhaps, or some innocent passer-by, but it would not hurt old Sonne nor yet