"Reassure yourself," said Guerchard coldly. "To you personally I offer nothing."
"Then you are sincere," said Lupin. "And putting me out of the question?"
"I offer you liberty."
"Who for? For my concierge?" said Lupin.
"Don't play the fool. You care only for a single person in the world. I hold you through her: Sonia Kritchnoff."
Lupin burst into a ringing, irrepressible laugh:
"Why, you're trying to blackmail me, you old sweep!" he cried.
"If you like to call it so," said Guerchard coldly.
Lupin rose and walked backwards and forwards across the room, frowning, calculating, glancing keenly at Guerchard, weighing him. Twice he looked at the clock.
He stopped and said coldly: "So be it. For the moment you're the stronger. . . . That won't last. . . . But you offer me this child's liberty."
"That's my offer," said Guerchard; and his eyes brightened at the prospect of success.
"Her complete liberty? . . . on your word of honour?" said Lupin; and he had something of the air of a cat playing with a mouse.
