"Done!" said Edward briskly. "At least, I would if you'd got five pounds." "But I have. I'm simply rolling. I've sold my Dejanira, didn't you know? I shall win your money, though, anyway. But _you_ couldn't do it, old man. I suppose you'll never outgrow that childish scare." "You might shut up about that," said Edward shortly. "Oh, it's nothing to be ashamed of; some women are afraid of mice or spiders. I say, does Rose know you're a coward?" "Vincent!" "No offence, old boy. One may as well call a spade a spade. Of course, you've got tons of moral courage, and all that. But you _are_ afraid of the dark--and wax-works!" "Are you trying to quarrel with me?" "Heaven in its mercy forbid; but I bet _you_ wouldn't spend a night in the Musee Grevin and keep your senses." "What's the stake?" "Anything you like." "Make it, that if I do, you'll never speak to Rose again--and what's more, that you'll never speak to me," said Edward, white-hot, knocking down a chair as he rose. "Done!" said Vincent; "but you'll never do it. Keep your hair on. Besides, you're off home." "I shall be back in ten days. I'll do it then," said Edward, and was off before the other could answer. Then Vincent, left alone, sat still, and over his third absinthe remembered how, before she had known Edward, Rose had smiled on him; more than on the others, he had thought. He thought of her wide, lovely eyes, her wild-rose cheeks, the scented curves of her hair, and then and there the devil entered into him. In ten days Edward would undoubtedly try to win his wager. He would try to spend the night in the Musee Grevin. Perhaps something could be arranged before that. If one knew the place thoroughly! A little scare would serve Edward right for being the man to whom that last glance of Rose's had been given. Vincent dined lightly, but with conscientious care--and as he dined, he thought. Something might be done by tying a string to one of the figures, and making it move, when Edward was going through that impossible night among the effigies that are so like life--so like death. Something that was not the devil said: "You may frighten him out of his wits." And the devil answered: "Nonsense! do him good. He oughtn't to be such a schoolgirl." Anyway, the five pounds might as well be won to-night as any other night. He would take a great coat, sleep sound in the place of horrors, and the people who opened it in the morning to sweep and dust would bear witness that he had passed the night there. He thought he might trust to the French love of a sporting wager to keep him from any bother with the authorities.