"When you have them," he implored, with the terror of a trapped beast in
his abject face, "you will let me go away?"
"I swear it," I answered; and, as I saw doubt and dread in his quailing
eyes, I added, "by the memory of my father. Where are the letters?"
"There."
He pointed to a valise in a corner of the room.
"Here is the money."
I flung him the note-case which contained it. Is there a sort of moral
magnetism in the tone of certain words and in certain expressions of
countenance? Was it the nature of the oath which I had just taken, so
deeply impressive at that moment, or had this man sufficient strength of
mind to say to himself that his single chance of safety resided in
belief in my good faith? However that may be, he did not hesitate for a
moment; he opened the ironbound valise, took out a yellow-leather box
with a patent lock, and, having opened it, flung its contents--a large
sealed envelope--to me, exactly as I had flung the bank-notes to him. I,
too, for my part, had not a moment's fear that he would produce a weapon
from the valise and attack me while I was verifying the contents of the
envelope. These consisted of three letters only; the two first bore the
double stamp of Paris and New York, the third those of New York and
Liverpool, and all three bore the January or February postmarks of the
year 1864.
"Is that all?" he asked.
"Not yet," I answered; "you must undertake to leave Paris this evening
by the first train, without having seen your brother or written to him."
"I promise; and then?"
"When was he to come back here to see you?"
"On Saturday," he answered, with a shrug of his shoulders. "The bargain
was concluded. He was determined to wait until the day came for me to
set out for Havre before paying me the money, so that he might make
quite sure I should not stay on in Paris.--The game is up," he added,
"and now I wash my hands of it."
"Edmond Termonde," said I, rising, but not loosing him from the hold of
my eye, "remember that I have spared you; but you must not tempt me a
second time by putting yourself in my way, or crossing the path of any
whom I love."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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