"But it is not all, my dear sir. I should not come to you unless I had much more precise and detailed information than that. It is not agreeable, Monsieur, to be arrested and tried for murder."
Derek came close up to him. His face expressed such furious anger that involuntarily the Comte drew back a pace or two.
"Are you threatening me? the young man demanded angrily.
"You shall hear nothing more of the matter," the Comte assured him.
"Of all the colossal bluffs that I have ever struck"
The Comte raised a white hand.
"You are wrong. It is not a bluff. To convince you I will tell you this. My information was obtained from a certain lady. It is she who holds the irrefutable proof that you committed the murder."
"She? Who?"
"Mademoiselle Mirelle"
Derek drew back as though struck.
"Mirelle," he muttered.
The Comte was quick to press what he took to be his advantage.
"A bagatelle of one hundred thousand francs," he said. "I ask no more."
"Eh?" said Derek absently.
"I was saying, Monsieur, that a bagatelle of one hundred thousand francs would satisfy my—conscience."
Derek seemed to recollect himself. He looked earnestly at the Comte.
"You would like my answer now?"
