“Miriam Liston--she also, of course. And I believe she knew it long before I told her.” Barebone turned and looked at him squarely in the eyes. Colville wondered a second time why Loo Barebone reminded him of Captain Clubbe to-night. “What makes you believe that?” he asked. “Oh, I don't know. But that isn't the question. The question is about the future. You see how things are in France. It is a question of Louis Napoleon or a monarchy--you see that. Unless you stop him he will be Emperor before a year is out, and he will drag France in the gutter. He is less a Bonaparte than you are a Bourbon. You remember that Louis Bonaparte himself was the first to say so. He wrote a letter to the Pope, saying so quite clearly. You will go on with it, of course, Barebone. Say you will go on with it! To turn back now would be death. We could not do it if we wanted to. I have been trying to think about it, and I cannot. That is the truth. It takes one's breath away. At the mere thought of it I feel as if I were getting out of my depth.” “We have been out of our depths the last month,” admitted Barebone, curtly. And he stood reflecting, while Colville watched him. “If I go on,” he said, at length, “I go on alone.” “Better not,” urged Colville, with a laugh of great relief. “For you would always have me and my knowledge hanging over you. If you succeeded, you would have me dunning you for hush-money.” Which seemed true enough. Few men knew more of one side of human nature than Dormer Colville, it would appear. “I am not afraid of that.” “You can never tell,” laughed Colville, but his laugh rather paled under Barebone's glance. “You can never tell.” “Wise men do not attempt to blackmail--kings.” And Colville caught his breath. “Perhaps you are right,” he admitted, after a pause. “You seem to be taking to the position very kindly, Barebone. But I do not mind, you know. It does not matter what we say to each other, eh? We have been good friends so long. You must do as you like. And if you succeed, I must be content to leave my share of the matter to your consideration. You certainly seem to know the business already, and some day perhaps you will remember who taught you to be a King.” “It was an old North Sea skipper who taught me that,” replied Barebone. “That is one of the things I learnt at sea.” “Yes--yes,” agreed Colville, almost nervously. “And you will go on with the thing, will you not? Like a good fellow, eh? Think about it till to-morrow morning. I will go now. Which is my candle? Yes. You will think about it. Do not jump to any hasty decision.” He hurried to the door as he spoke. He could not understand Barebone at all. “If I do go on with it,” was the reply, “it will not be in response to any of your arguments. It will be only and solely for the sake of France.” “Yes--of course,” agreed Colville, and closed the door behind him.